The Chauffeur
by Backsound
Summary: Brittany has been in LA perusing her dreams of becoming a cultural icon for weeks now. When money starts getting short, she finds herself in need of a job to pay the bills. She just didn't know what she was letting herself in for. AU Brittany/Sanana
1. The Vibe of Happenstance

Story: _The Chauffeur_  
>Summary:<em> Brittany (and Tina) have been in LA perusing her dreams of being a cultural icon for weeks now. When money starts getting short, she finds herself in need of a job to pay the bills. Happenstance finds herself a job that has it's perks. A bit of 'what ifs' and 'never were's' all in-between. AU<em>  
>Pairing: <em>BrittanySantana_  
>Disclaimer:<em> I don't own Glee nor do I own it's characters those McRIB people do. Those FOX people kind of do too.<em>

Authors note: _I don't want to give to much away right now, but I kind of have a story idea, and I've decided to write it. This is the first chapter. You can read it if you like, and review it if you like too. Hopefully you'll like (or understand) the story as it's goes on further. I'm not the best writer but I'm trying to go for a specific 'voice' and hope it comes across somewhat. Constructive criticism is welcomed. There's a bit of set up for the rest of the story in this chapter. Also I don't have a beta so I've read for mistakes but if I miss them I apologize. I've rambled enough - on with the story..._

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><p>She's been in Los Angeles for weeks now, and for all intents and purposes - she's adapted well. She likes not having to wear pants all the time, she can get those iced coffee drinks she loves with extra whipped cream at the end of every street corner, shops and bars stay open way later, and she can dance all day and all night in studios that feel like she was meant to live in. Safe to say, Brittany has adapted like a duck to water.<p>

She'd been working in Lima teaching in her childhood dance studio making enough money to make the move out onto the west coast. She could have easily stayed; the money was good considering, and she was pretty much the awesomest teacher at the studio. The kids she taught loved her and she loved them too. Her dreams were bigger than that town though, and she was far too talented to stay there. She thinks she could have hacked going out to LA alone but she didn't have to, as she found she wasn't the only one with the same aspirations.

Nobody expected Tina to drop out of college after just a year, but she did. She decided Ohio State just wasn't for her and found herself back in Lima working at Breadsticks to make extra cash. It had it's perks, and Tina took advantage of the free food for staff policy more often than not.

Tina wasn't as talented or as awesome as Brittany (but it was cool, Tina kind of knew that too) nor did she have such a understanding family about not going to college, but she also had dreams that wanted to take her to LA. They could both work the grind and it's always easier to do things with an extra body.

It also helped they've been close since their time in Glee club together. Brittany was the popular cheerleader, who won Homecoming queen without even trying, and Tina the Asian goth who hated Twilight. They were similar really. They worked.

Together they packed their belongings into the truck Tina had gotten from her parents as a High School graduation present and off they went. With their parents waving them off and the open road ahead of them, they road tripped it to the city.

They took a week to get to California, stopping in motels along the way. Some were creepy, old and even had a serious 'serial killer' vibe according to Tina. Referring to the night they spent at a motel on the Missouri/Oklahoma boarder as "The Shining-esque terribad" Tina vowed never to go there again. Brittany thought it as peaceful, really.

When they finally made it to Los Angeles they quickly found their new apartment building (Tina was in charge of that) and met the landlord. He was a quirky middle aged woman who apparently had appeared on Survivor season 7 and won the show. Neither of them watched the show so couldn't indulge or disprove the auburn haired woman who waxed lyrically about her 'facing the dangers of the rain forest and the people who were her contestants'.

It was all fun – until now that is.

The inquisition from Tina started as she walked through the door to their quaint two bedroom apartment. Her hair was a mess and she was still sweating from the intense dance classes and the rather short walk back to their apartment. She was still buzzing from the high after dancing always gave her too. The high quickly evaporated when Tina opened her mouth about getting a job.

"Why?" she asks as she flops down into the oversized grey crouch that takes up most of their small living room.

"Because we have bills to pay!" Tina replies incredulously. Her long, black-and-blue-highlighted hair moves wildly around her face, as she tidies around the room.

Brittany shrugs as she looks around the room nonchalantly. She still has enough savings to last her at least six months according to her Mom, on top of the small jobs she's been booking. She's doing awesome right now.

"I'm doing awesome right now."

"Doing what, Brit?"

"Dancing." She replies as if it was obvious, "I'm on my way to getting the hip hop for kids teaching slot at Millennium, too!"

Tina stops her tidying to look over at Brittany on the couch,

"And when is that going to be?" Tina asks.

Brittany lifts her shoulders and tilts her head.

"A coupla months?"

"So not now?" Tina asks slowly.

Brittany's lack of response gives Tina the answer. Tina sighs irritably and starts up again pottering around the room with a duster cleaning everything and nothing. It makes Brittany slightly uncomfortable. She's getting herself into frenzy and that never ends well for Tina. It normally ends in a feminist rant or how she doesn't want Asian babies with a fellow hot Asian with perfect abs who's Mother doesn't think she's Asian enough for him. It could be even worse - a song which she keens and cries all the way through.

"I could make money taking my clothes off. I could do that?" Brittany responds, trying to placate the stressing out and lecture.

"Honey, you just need a few drinks in you and you take them off for free. You need to get a steady job to make you steady money. Not a job that requires nipple tassels.

Brittany thinks she'd quite like the idea of wearing nipple tassels.

"A regular job. " Tina stressed, using her hands to punctuate each word. Brittany thinks Tina can read minds sometimes. She has the look of a physicist, what with the style she goes for.

"That's boring." She replies

"We've got to do something to get a start here," Tina says sitting down next to Brittany on the couch. Her arm wrapping around the sulking girl, "It's not going to be easy Britt, despite how talented we are."

Brittany huffs in her seat and folds her arms, sinking further down into the couch. Her nose scrunches up at all this serious talk.

Tina rubs Brittany's shoulders before picking up a brown A4 envelope from the mahogany coffee table, and subsequently decides to drops the item into Brittany's lap.

"Here, I made up a resume for you and printed once or twenty times. Get to it, girl!"

This is really going to suck.

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><p>Brittany's been 'regular' job hunting for at least two hours now, and for all intent and purposes – it's going rather well.<p>

The day after Tina's rant, Brittany had decided to get down to look for a job after her morning dance classes. She didn't have to wait long for a lead, as Lukas (a tall, blonde Swede who had hair Brittany was slightly envious of) in her African Jazz dance class mentions to her something about his regular day job as a valet parking attendant and he lucrative tips he made. Brittany offhandedly mentions that she's looking for a job a mentions, also offhandedly, that the company were looking for chauffeur drivers. Brittany simply grinned in response.

If there was one thing Brittany excelled in other than dancing, singing, being a style icon revered nationwide, and being a fantastic performer – it was driving. It was very much a dancer's instinct to be good at driving Brittany thought. Driving itself was a dance that had to be masted with technique and precision. It requires co-ordination and elegance in its handling. Hit the clutch with a heavy foot and it's all downhill from there. Brittany loved to drive (when she remembered to fill the gas tank up that is) and even won competitive races back in Ohio. Motocross and rally car driving were her specialities. Be it a car or motorcycle – Brittany could drive it.

He didn't offer any more information other than the address of the place (and his phone number, which Brittany scrunched up, and threw in her purse) but he didn't really need to. She had a job lead and she could tell Tina about it later on today. Which meant she wouldn't have to face her frowny face which always makes Brittany sad.

It all culminates to her standing in a garage filled with top of the range cars, with blacked out windows, and sparkling rims at something akin to an job interview. She stands opposite a tall, stout man with dark hair, olive skin and hazel eyes. He has a bright white smile and has a calm, and almost gentle quality about him that Brittany likes. Brittany thinks he's kind of hot, ya know, in an old man kind of way.

Brittany soon comes to learn his name is Carl,

"Can you drive?" the man asks inquisitively.

"A car?" Brittany asks innocently.

Carl nods his head; a slight veil of awkwardness appears in his body language. Brittany looks to the ceiling and says breezily,

"I can drive a motorcycle, a truck, a car... I even drove a bus once - nailed it."

Carl looks slightly bemused as he scratches his head with his 2B pencil. He quickly jots down a few notes in his leather bound notepad before asking her any other questions.

"Do you have a licence?" He continues.

"Yes."

"Can you drive stick?"

Brittany grins toothily at the man opposite her. Sick is her favourite.

"Stick is my favourite."

Carl stares blankly at the girl in front of him, not exactly sure how to take her. He stares at her for a few moments; with Brittany staring blankly back with a slight smile of her face, before he shrugs his shoulders and closes his leather bound note pad, and placing the pencil behind his ear.

"Well, I guess you're hired, kid." He says, scratching his neck as he looks back towards Brittany.

Nailed it.

Brittany's face broke out into a large smile and she started bouncing on her tip toes. She had a fleeting moment of wondering if her inability to read a map or sometimes her lack of ability of being able to tell her left from her right (she would mix the words up. Sometimes) would be a cause for concern but she didn't really care about those things. She'd just work really, really hard not to fail.

"Thank you!" She enthused as she bounded over to the stout man whose face shone with disbelief and amusement.

The large man seemed perturbed that Brittany would wrap her arms around him in excitement but went along with the hug. He kind of liked it. Secretly.

"You're welcome, kid" He says amusement seeping through his tone, "come back tomorrow and we'll get you a uniform, and get you driving some of the cars to get comfortable."

Finding a regular job wasn't so hard after all. At least Tina can be happy that she managed to find a job within 24 hours of 'the rant' Brittany has decided to call it. Brittany won't tell Tina this, but she's kind of disappointed that her job won't involve having to wear nipple tassels. She can wear them underneath her new uniform anyway.

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><p>I'm going somewhere with this, I hope you enjoy the ride.<p> 


	2. To the Beds of the Big Leagues

Thanks for the reviews and story alerts, everyone! They're very much appreciated! It took me longer than anticipated to get this chapter up and for that I apologize. I've decided to split this chapter up and will update sooner than I did on this occasion.

On with the story we go...

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><p>Brittany has been a chauffeur for four and a half weeks now and for all intents and purposes – She kind of loves it.<p>

She loves the cars she's gets to drive. She hadn't gotten to ride 'the big deal' cars she likes to call them for a passenger yet (she did test drive them all in her first week and for some of them, it felt like sitting on a cloud), but the cars she has driven have all been nice enough. They're all so black and shiny, with tinted windows, a smooth ride, and her favourite part – the cutest little cup holders that she can put her ice coffee drinks with extra whipped cream in.

She'd been put on 'airport' duty in her time of being a chauffeur. This meant taxiing people to and from LAX airport. Carl said it was for her to 'bed in'. Brittany thinks, really if she needed a bed she would just go lie down in her own.

Being on airport duty meant she hadn't really been tested on the 'reading a map' situation, but it didn't matter now that she received a Sat Nav that tracks her progress and talks like a robot lady. It's totally cool and Carl even taught her how to programme it. Brittany thinks it's way cooler than the TV but scarier because she watched 'Terminator: Rise of the Machines' enough as a child to know - machines are really scary when they rebel.

Carl told her to not talk too much to the 'powerful people' but Brittany can't really tell who are the powerful without superhero costumes, or a big sign, like if they show off their power. They were nice enough to her all the while. Most of them gave her tips big enough to live on for a week (which includes partying and dinner out at least once; according to how Tina worked it out). No celebrities or actors yet; what with the bed Brittany is lying in and all.

She's been enjoying the time she has to juggle between dancing, auditioning and the regular job. Tina is pleased that it's given Brittany a schedule that she has to stick to. Brittany thinks Tina just likes the fact she's out of the apartment everyday so she can go on a cleaning spree, because Brittany has come to realize - Tina has become totally obsessed with cleaning when she isn't working.

But, there are just a couple things she hasn't liked as much...

Firstly, LA traffic made Brittany all hot and bothered, and it made the other drivers rage when the cars were at a standstill. She doesn't really understand how you can get angry at cars that aren't going anywhere. Time isn't going to speed up because you took the time to turn an ugly purple out of anger. She doesn't understand people sometimes.

Apparently Californians also don't know how to drive in the rain, and when it poured for two hours last week, Brittany had never felt anger the way she felt it behind the wheel during her fourth visit to LAX that day. The amount of times she had narrowly avoided a crash of some sort due to another driver's inability to drive a car was too much to process for Brittney. People can be so stupid sometimes.

Secondly, was the super unflattering uniform she has to wear. She's a style icon and, _obviously_, can make any ensemble work. However this was just not working for her. The pants were not comfortable when she had to sit for prolonged amounts of time, and they caused serious wedgies that she'd rather not experience again anytime soon.

There have been incidents of her forgetting to wear her pants. She can't help that she forgets when she wears shorts all the time. It's the closest possible way for her to be naked and not get arrested for public indecency. It's restricting her freedom sometimes and it makes her a little sad when she dwells on it for too long. Tina makes her a banana milkshake to cheer her up when she gets like that.

The first day she accidentally turned up without her pants on to the garage caused quite a scene. With high wasted disco shorts, heeled ankle boots, and her uniform jacket and shirt, she got the attention of everyone who was based at the garage. She met a lot of awesome people that day. Everyone was very friendly and she quickly became friends with some of them. Carl looked like he was going to explode though, and he got really sweaty and red. Brittany thought he may have been having a heart attack. Apparently he gets like that when he's nervous/anxious/irritated.

The aim to become a cultural icon is going pretty awesome, still, just in case you were wondering. She's now assistant choreographer to this totally awesome dance crew herself and Tina joined. They're called Asiana Fusion and they're all Asian – except Brittany. They do a hip hop, jazz and tap fusion and they are totally flawless. Brittany thinks they're going to be bigger than that British dance crew that are really famous in Europe, with the little kid they throw in the air. She's watched them on youtube and everything. They rehearse every Wednesday morning for two hours when everyone in the crew has spare time, i.e. - when they're not off working their regular jobs.

Those rehearsals are exactly where she just came from when Carl rings her cellphone (which she has gotten really good at answering, by the way. Ever since Tina give her a coaching session on it her life has gotten at least 2 times easier. It's not as cool and scary as the Sat Nav, but now she has a schedule bleeper thing that goes off when she has things to do, and it's totally awesome) informing her she was needed by him at the garage. It was company code to wear the uniform at all times in the garage, so she quickly went home to change and Tina gave her a lift to the garage on the way to her 'regular' job – a backing singer in a studio.

Brittany thinks Tina's job is the perfect fit for her. Getting to sing and be heard on commercials and the background of famous bands and artists. Her charisma really shines through in the background. She was made for it. Also helps the money is really good too. Well, Tina says it is anyway. Brittany leaves all that stuff to her.

She muses about this as she walks into the garage with her uniform on and hat atop her head.

As she stands in front of Carl, his face turning a bright shade of red and looking anywhere but directly at her, she realizes she forgot to wear pants again.

Whoops.

"Brittany..." Carl starts obviously exasperated.

Brittany doesn't regret her current outfit as she looks really, really good like this, but shrugs her shoulders apologetically,

"I just came from dance rehearsals." She replies blankly, looking up to him the same way she's seen dogs look at their owner when it knows it has done something wrong. She's quite good at that look, actually.

Carl scratches his neck and relents. It always works.

"I didn't ask you to come here to lecture you, anyway," he starts; walking away from Brittany, urging her to follow, "I came here to tell you how good of a job you're doing..."

Obviously. She is Brittany S. Pierce.

"...and that you're off airport duty and are about to enter the big leagues now."

Brittany feels the funny feeling in her stomach that feels like presents on Christmas morning.

Carl enters the garage with all the high end luxury cars, and stands next to a car she knows as a Bentley Mulsanne. It's her favourite because the front of the car looks like a smiley face, like it's just so happy to exist and be driven.

Carl pulls her out of her musings by clearing his throat. It causes her to flinch slightly, she was just so taken with the car in front of her.

"So kid we just secured a big deal contract with a big deal production company to drive their cast to and from set. Welcome to your own town car. This baby is yours for the next 3 months."

She runs her hand softly along the roof of the car; it feels like care has gone into the car, it feels important to Brittany. The feel of the cool black steel underneath her hand is kind of calming in a way. She's really pretty.

"She's really pretty." She sighs out softly and wonderment fills her tone.

Carl laughs lightly and pats her roughly on the back,

"Sure is kid. I'm entrusting you with this thing, so please look after her or any damage is coming outta ya paycheck!"

He's joking. There's insurance policies and whatnot. She remembers having to sign documents for that stuff.

"you and this baby are at the hands of, one..."He looks down at the folder, and grins back to Brittany, "... Miss Santana Lopez!"

The name seemed familiar to Santana but she wasn't really sure where she heard it from.

"I've heard of that name." She says absently, still petting the car as if she would with Lord Tubbington.

"She's on route to being a big star from what I've heard. I've also heard she's prone to a bitch fit so watch your mouth."

The word 'fit' stands out to Brittany and she doesn't like that word and what it is associated with. Fits are never a good thing, she learned. Her cat, Lord Tubbington had an 'episode' like that once. It was not the best of times for Brittany; she wore black everyday for a week in mourning. He decided to pretend nothing happened and opted to comfort eat. He got fat, and caused Brittany an incapable amount of stress.

She starts to fret slightly, bringing her heads to her chest; she starts to fiddle with her fingers,

"Will she seizure?" She asks worriedly.

Carl just ignores her and stuffs the file into her hands. Which, Brittany thinks is totally rude. This could be a serious condition, or something.

"Here's your itinerary. Go home; read it, please. 6am pick up time so be here for the car at 5am. Good luck, kid."

With that, he walks off to his office on the other side of the garage, leaving Brittany in front of the pretty black Bentley she now has to drive. She can't help but grin to herself.

Overall, Brittany's glad she's bedded in.

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><p>If you're reading, thanks for doing so.<p> 


	3. Driving Miss Lopez

Back once again. Hope you enjoy this chapter a little.

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><p>When Brittany got home late afternoon (after she'd got herself some dots, rainbow twizzlers and her favourite caramel iced coffee drink with extra whipped cream. It was a slight celebration), she firstly striped herself free of the restricting uniform, and did exactly what Carl told her to do - read all the documents from the file he handed her. She placed all the pages on the coffee table and sat in front of it; peering over to read each item.<p>

Apparently the film was produced by 20th Century Fox (Brittany always assumed that there was a Fox with a top hat and cigar who ran the thing) and Santana Lopez is the leading actress in the film. There wasn't much more information than that, but it was enough to get excited at how 'big league' this was.

She noted that there was something she had come to learn working as a chauffeur as a confidentially agreement with the Fox logo at the top of the page. When she first started the job, not only did she have to sign one (much to the chagrin of Tina, who feeds off knowing things and spreading gossip around that's not hers to tell) but she has to not speak about any of the clients to anyone. If Carl found out, she'd be fired quicker than Ke$ha was relevant. It made it stand out to Brittany even further that this was quite an important job and Carl was putting a lot of trust into her. Screwing up was not on the cards. It gave Brittany that funny feeling in her stomach just thinking about it.

She looked at her itinerary for the next three months, which she programmes into the calendar into her phone, and sets all the schedule bleep thingys so she doesn't miss anything.

The itinerary included location shoots out of town, as well as the regular trips to the production offices and studios. It occurred to Brittany that this would seriously eat into her time for dancing and striving to be a cultural icon. When she thinks too much about it, it makes her head hurt and it makes her a little bit sad. It's only three months and she knows that it won't stop her from working around it. She'll remember this when she's famous and she leaves Tina out in the cold for the amount of time she has to work a regular job because she's way more talented than her.

The last thing she looked at were her I.D's and permits for the gates to the studios and lots, and a small pile of business cards with her name and number on them. Carl put a cute little pink post-it on the top of the pile which read,

_B  
>You've made it now kid! You've got business cards!<br>Remember to give one to Miss Lopez so she can call you up anytime  
>you and Mulsanne are at her beck and call now!<br>Good luck  
>C<em>

The note made Brittany all warm and fuzzy inside. She liked the man a lot and Brittany thinks he likes her a little too. Even if she seems to make him go red in the face quite a bit.

She didn't hang around procrastinating for too long and goes to bed early enough that Tina hasn't yet got back from work yet. She dreams of cars, Lady Gaga and paparazzi. She awakes sluggishly at 4am with eyes that refused to open until she got into the shower ten minutes later.

She quickly leaves the apartment with a piece of toast in her mouth with blonde hair flying everywhere, and one of those green nutrient shakes Tina has forced her to start drinking, because apparently she needs to be more healthier. It tastes like the time she ate a fistful of her front lawn back in Ohio after her Dad has mowed it. She did it because she always saw cats and dogs eating grass, so she thought it wouldn't harm her to try either. It didn't taste great then, and it doesn't taste great now either.

When she gets to the garage, the Bentley Mulsanne is ready and waiting. She's gleaming like she's just been waxed, and smells like the leather has been upholstered inside too. Brittany thinks it's one of her favourite smells.

She quickly takes the keys out of the empty office, and programmes her Sat Nav so she doesn't get lost on her way to the first address of the day, and leaves the garage with time to spare. She'd like to make sure she's early, what with it being her first day and all.

This is where it all starts to fall apart.

She wasn't exactly expecting that waiting outside a gated community with no guards to open the gate in sight would cause her to bight her nails again (she managed to get over it in senior year at High School), but she wants to make a good impression, and so far? She's already late for her first day.

She was so late, that she receives an angry phone call from Erick, the morning supervisor at the garage asking why she why the car hadn't moved for twenty minutes (the cars all have trackers fitted. They'll know if you try to steal the car. Brittany thinks her big brother is watching her, which creeps her out a little bit at times). He calmed down when he realized that she was stuck at the gate and the security guards at the gate were being totally mean and unhelpful by not actually being at said gate.

Finally after a ranty phone call from Erick, the security guard comes by (his eyes are bloodshot and he looks like he's had too much Botox and donuts which is a totally gross combination in Brittany's eyes) and gave Brittany a card to swipe the gate so he wouldn't have to do any work ever again at this time of the morning. Brittany isn't exactly sure why he still has a job here if his attitude is like that. Mean. And lazy. Really, really lazy.

She swipes the card and moves up the road, until the Sat Nav tells her she's at the destination.

This is where she currently stands - with the door to the passenger's door open; fiddling with her hat, all while awaiting the berating that she knows will come from being late.

She looks around at her surroundings and can tell it's where the rich people live. It's secluded; full of trees and neatly trimmed shrubbery and so very quiet. There's no sound but the birds tweeting, and the slight breeze moving the leaves in the trees. Brittany can't see any of the houses fully but she knows they look nice.

She hears the ominous clatter of heels on the pavement which makes Brittany straighten her posture and fiddle with the hat atop her head.

A woman with dark hair and olive skin comes into her line of view. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, and white sunglasses adorn her face. She's wearing a grey pencil dress that hugs her curves in all the right places; black stiletto platform pumps, and a red tote handbag complete the outfit. Brittany thinks she's never seem someone look so stunning before, and it makes her stomach feel funny like it's Christmas morning all over again.

The girl (who looks in similar age to Brittany now that she's closer), stops abruptly in front of her and pulls the sunglasses from her face,

"Brittany Pierce?" The girl exclaims.

Brittany winces, waiting for her first encounter of the pretty girl of being a berating for being late.

"I'm really sorry for being late, Miss Lopez," she starts, "I'm guessing you rang up the garage to ask why I was late and they explained?"

The girl's face seems to fall, and she places the oversized wayfarer style sunglasses back on her face. The mirror reflective material makes it impossible to see the girl's eyes, which disappoints Brittany because her eyes her really deep brown and looked really pretty. Brittany feels all confused by her reaction now. It makes her frown slightly and turns her head to the side.

Santana looks at the floor and re-positions the red leather tote bag on her arm.

"I guess I did." She says quietly. With that, the dark haired woman walks past her and gets into the car. Brittany notices that she smells really good, too.

She's slightly shocked she didn't get a talking to, but she's not going to dwell on it.

"I won't make excuses and I'm very sorry for being late, Miss Lopez." Brittany says solemnly. She wonders if she should add a hat tip to make it more heartfelt but opts to close the car door instead.

She quickly re-programmes her Sat Nav and takes the car out of park to drive back down the road she came from. She makes sure to mentally stick her tongue out at the kiosk in which, again, there's no security guard in sight.

"My boss said that you're apparently prone to bitchfits." Brittany blurts out. She's not exactly sure why she says it, and Carl will probably get angry at her for talking to the client, and telling said client thing, but sometimes Brittany's mouth is faster than her brain to stop her from saying it.

"Did he now?" The girl replies amusedly. Brittany looks into the rear-view mirror to see her smirk slightly. It makes her mouth all pouty and makes her look super pretty (again).

"My cat had a fit once," Brittany continues, "and it was a super stressful time for both of us, so I just wanted to let you know that if it happens to you, I'll help you as best as I can."

Brittany chanced another look in the rear view mirror, and saw a small smile grow on the dark haired girls face. Her smile looks even prettier than her smirk from where Brittany is sitting.

"Okay." Santana says, looking out of the darkened window.

They fall into a comfortable silence while the neighbourhood scenery flies past, the suburban roads being relatively quiet at this time in the morning. It makes the journey peaceful despite how Brittany is feeling on her first day.

Brittany looks up in the rear view again, this time to see Santana resting her chin against her hand, while looking out of the window. She looks like she wants to say something, so Brittany waits patiently for the girl to do so.

"I don't have bitchfits by the way..." she starts quietly, "I just like to be honest with people when I think they suck. That's all."

Brittany nods and agrees with the super stylish and pretty woman who smells really good.

"I like that."

Brittany is grateful her Sat Nav is telling her to bypass the highway, as she knows she would rather not get stuck in traffic, and she'd rather not have to deal with being late _and _the angry motorists on the highway. Instead, she recognizes the inner city route which takes her past her apartment complex but also the coffee shop she goes to everyday. To make it up to Santana Lopez, she decides she's going to buy her coffee.

"Would you like coffee?" She asks breathily, wondering why exactly she is out of breath, "We have time to get coffee."

"Sure." Is all the reply she gets.

Brittany is really glad, because she really wants her iced coffee more than usual this morning. She feels all fidgety and awkward, and everyone knows that Brittany is none of those things. Unflappable is what Mr. Shue called her once in high school, after a Glee club rehearsal went all wrong and ended up with some of the members coming to blows. She doesn't have wings (well, maybe they're invisible) but this is obviously true in most cases.

"Anything in particular, Miss Lopez?" she asks, looking into the rear view mirror.

"Surprise me." She shrugs slightly, and Brittany gets out of the car.

She's about to enter the cafe before she hears the electric sound of the window being wound down. She turns around to see Santana looking over the half opened window. Before Brittany can say anything Santana is opening her mouth to speak, "Stop with the 'Miss Lopez'," which she wraps in air quotes, "it's so old lady!" She looks down quickly before smirking and peering over her sunglasses; her brown eyes looking into Brittany's, "Call me Santana."

Brittany finds herself staring blankly for a few moments before nodding and actually springing into action by turning on the spot and heading into the cafe.

When she's in the cafe, she's not exactly sure what to get the girl sitting in the car. Is she one of those drinkers who like the little cup who are always dressed in suits and are never not in rush? Or is she one of those fancy coffee types with soy and vanilla extract and extra shots of things that Brittany doesn't care to understand?

She's still deciding what to get her when Carly, the Barista who lives in the same apartment block and has dyed burgundy hair that Brittany has gotten friendly with, (and had that 'moment' with when she was totally drunk and in stripper mode a few weeks back. They don't talk about it though) notices her standing looking at the menu,

"Hey, Britt!" the woman smiles warmly over to Brittany in affection, "Caramel this morning?"

Brittany shrugs, and decides to just order two of her favourite drink.

"Can you make that two, please?"

"Working, I see." Carly notes, as she gets to work making the drinks.

"Yes." Brittany replies, fiddling with the selection of fruit teas on the counter. She's not really in the mood to talk this morning, and usually she's always in the mood. She has the urge to start biting her fingernails again.

Carly seems to notice, and quickly makes the drinks, places them in a holder and gives Brittany a smile as she pays. Brittany gives her a quick goodbye over her shoulder before leaving and going back to the car.

She opens the driver's seat and finds Santana fiddling on her phone.

Santana takes off her sunglasses, and eyes the drinks in Brittany's hands and gives her an inquisitive look.

"I like iced coffee drinks." Brittany says sheepishly; handing her the beverage.

Santana laughs lightly, takes the drink, meets Brittany's eyes and says,

"I like them too."

Brittany feels like she's passed a test and smiles back widely.

They don't really talk after they set back off on their journey, and Brittany is glad she has her iced coffee drink with extra whipped cream to calm her nerves.

When she looks back in the rear-view mirror she sees Santana sipping her drink, leaving red lipstick stains on the straw. Brittany finds it super cute for some reason.

It's not long until she's arriving at the Lot, and at the kiosk with security guards that are actually doing their job. She shows the guard closest her correct pass, and they check her off on the clipboard. She's through the gates in a matter of moments and at the destination just as quickly as that.

Brittany gets out of the car, and straightens her jacket before opening the door for Santana to get out. She takes a deep breath and opens the door

"Have a nice day, Santana." Brittany says, tipping her hat the way Carl told her to do. She nails that move like nobody else.

Santana gets out with a grace Brittany has yet to see since being a chauffeur. It's almost a dancer's grace the way she moves. Not as awesome as herself obviously, but it's nice to see.

"Thanks for the coffee." Santana says, lifting and shaking the coffee cup, "I'll pay you back sometime."

Santana walks away to head into the large, white concrete building where the production offices are held, and Brittany watches her go for a few moments before getting back into the car and takes in a deep breath before exhaling.

She suddenly realizes she forgot to give Santana one of her brand new business cards.

"Wait!" Brittany exclaims; clamouring out of the car to stop Santana from leaving just yet. She stops in front of the woman, and gets a business card out of her jacket pocket.

"I forgot to give you this. It's my card."

Santana takes the card from her, and finds herself staring temporarily at her French manicured nails while continuing to talk,

"You're supposed to call me if you need picking up for anything other than the scheduled times." Brittany finally looks back up at Santana with a small smile, "I'm yours for the next three months."

Santana looks down at the card and smiles back at Brittany,

"Have a nice day, Brittany."

Santana walks backwards for a few steps, and tips her head in goodbye before walking into the production office building and out of sight of Brittany.

This is not the best day so far for her, and she's all flustered, but she's enjoying it all the same. This is her first big league job and she really thinks, once the funny nerves have gone she'll have no problems with this job. Especially when Santana smiles at her.

She's totally going to go to her krumping class now.

* * *

><p>So there's Santana...<p>

Thanks for reading.


	4. Going Above and Beyond

Hello again! I've managed to get an update out sooner than I planned this time. I may find it difficult to update in the coming couple of weeks, but I will be trying my best to do so.

Thanks again for the reviews and story alerts. It really does spur the creativity juices.

On with the story.

* * *

><p>Brittany's been driving Santana Lopez for fortnight now and for all intents and purposes – she loves everything about it.<p>

She's taken to buying Santana coffee every morning and Santana has taken to buying her a banana milkshake when Brittany picks her up in the late afternoon. It makes Brittany feel like they have their special thing together. This in turn makes her feel totally goofy; like the nerds she used to hang around with in A/V club in High School. She can't help how it feels. Born this way, bitches.

The funny feeling in her stomach hasn't stopped but she's decided she likes the feeling and the comfort it provides, and she's starting to think it's Santana who's causing it.

They don't really talk all that much, but when they do they do Brittany manages to make the Santana laugh or smile.

Santana doesn't give much of herself away, which Brittany understands, but she asks questions (without prying) about her life in LA that makes Brittany feel slightly special that Santana Lopez kind of wants to get to know her chauffeur a little bit.

Sometimes when Brittany catches Santana off guard for fleeting moments she looks so sad that it makes Brittany's chest hurt, but then it's gone in a flash, and the dark haired girl returns to a mask of stoic beauty. And sometimes when she looks at Santana she feels like she's known her for longer than a fortnight. They don't talk much and yet it feels so easy to Brittany that she sometimes wishes she got to spend more time driving her.

She's looking forward to Monday when Santana starts the actual filming of this movie, and the pickup times get even more ridiculous.

She doesn't like that she can't talk about how awesome Santana is to Tina or to anyone else because she really thinks she is, and everyone deserves to know it.

It's Sunday morning, which means the day Hollywood shuts down according to all her dancer friends and Carl. Tina has gone out with her new backing-dancer-to-GaGa boyfriend, Jez to get matching mani/pedi's. Brittany tells her to get rainbow nails as it will make her stand out more. Brittany tells Jez to get them too.

She's playing with her Rainbow Dash plush toy while she lies in bed when her phone rings. It's Carl and there's no greeting but a, "I need to see now" and he hangs up. It makes her teeth hurt a little that something may be wrong.

* * *

><p>Brittany finds herself waiting in Carl's office in a plush leather chair, across from his oversized desk. She doesn't have to fret or wait too look before she hears the door open, and the distinct sounds of his chuntering.<p>

He walks in the office not wearing his usual black suit, but wearing a pink and white striped polo shirt, grey sweatpants and yellow loafers.

She notices that he has a large brown envelope under his arm, and the way his newly grown handlebar moustache is bristling – he is not in a good mood.

Brittany feels like she's really done something wrong now.

Carl opens the envelope and lifts the contents out and throws items onto his desk.

They're photographs.

"What are these?" he asks evenly.

Brittany looks down at the images and sees that they're of Santana, alone, getting out of a white Audi TT at a gas station.

"Pictures of Santana." She answers blithely.

"Doing what?" Carl asks and oddly clicks his fingers pointing towards her and back to the images,

"Getting out of a car?" She asks lowly.

Carl starts to pace now; his hands on his hips obviously agitated. Brittany thinks he looks a little ridiculous really.

"Yes but what is she doing?"

"Driving?"

Carl clicks his fingers again.

"Yes. Driving. Why are you not driving her, Brittany?"

She shrugs, staring at her hands placed on her lap; wisps of blonde hair falling from her ponytail,

"She didn't ring me."

If Brittany is honest with herself, she's kind of hurt that Santana didn't ring her. She takes her job very seriously.

Carl stops pacing to sit down in his leather chair, and reclines backwards in it before continuing to speak,

"When you're hired to drive her everywhere..." He takes to tapping his fingers against the top of his desk. The glass covered table making a high pitched sound after each tap.

"You."

_Tap. _

"Drive."

_Tap. _

"Her."

_Tap._

"Everywhere!"

She finds herself flinching in a seat and slumps further into it. She refuses to look up from her lap. Her chest aches a little bit now, and her face feels hot. She's _embarrassed_.

"The studio has been on the phone all morning biting my head off over this. My day of golf is ruined now! "

"I'm sorry, sir. It didn't say anything about weekends in the file you sent me."

"I know, kid and I'm not even mad at you, I'm annoyed at the situation. The studio has this girl on a tight leash for whatever reason and you need to drive her everywhere, now, even at the weekends. You need to get that into her head."

Brittany nods and makes a move to leave as quickly as possible. Her weekend has been ruined now, and she just wants to eat a McDonald's breakfast to drown her sorrows (Tina's nutrient shake can go down the drain for today). Carl's voice stops her on the spot.

"Watch out for the girl, okay?" He says quietly, the seriousness in his tone makes Brittany turn back to face him, "I've seen this happen before." He continues, "It doesn't usually end well."

* * *

><p>Brittany spends the rest of the morning moping. It's the first time since being in Los Angeles that she finds herself missing home. She wants to curl up in her bed back home and watch The Lion King with Lord Tubbington curled up next to her. At least she got a sausage and egg McMuffin to ease the sorrow.<p>

She tries to ring Tina but she doesn't answer; still obviously having a gay ol' time at the salon.

Brittany decides to ring the person who's been on her mind since her telling off earlier. As she stares at her contact list Santana's name stands out. She hadn't rang her number before, and Santana had only rang her once to ask her to pick her up from a dinner meeting early one night last week, but Brittany is worried about her now after what Carl said, and she wants to make sure nothing bad happens.

She presses call before she has any more time to dwell on it.

The phone is picked up after three rings.

"Hello?" Rasps the voice on the other end of the line.

It makes Brittany shudder.

"Santana?"

"Oh, Brittany! Hey!" She sounds happy that Brittany she called at least.

"How are you?" Brittany asks. She feels she needs to ask.

"Ya know, Surviving. You?"

"I got in trouble today."

"You did?"

"You were driving yesterday. I'm supposed to drive you everywhere."

Brittany wonders if it came out all wrong because there's silence on the other end of the phone for a few moments. She's almost about to ask if Santana's still there when she replies,

"I didn't want to trouble you." Her tone is even and calm, and Brittany waits a few moments to respond to her,

"The studio of that film you're doing wants me to drive you for the duration of production. Everywhere. Even on weekends."

Brittany hears a groan on the other side of the call.

"Well that fucking sucks. I'm sorry Britt, I didn't mean to get you into trouble."

_I'm supposed to look out for you_

"I'm supposed to look out for you." Brittany blurts out absently.

"I don't need looking out for." Santana snaps instantly.

Brittany's taken aback slightly. The dark haired girl's acerbic tongue has yet to snap at her and she feels she might have said the wrong thing. Again. There's a beat before Brittany says anything else. She knows what she's going to ask.

"Would you like me to pick you up?"

"I think I'd like that a lot." The voice on the other end says softly.

"Where do you wanna go?"

"Anywhere." Santana whispers.

* * *

><p>Brittany quickly gets showered and changed (and keeps shorts on. It's a weekend and she is totally going to compromise) before setting off over to Santana's. Brittany is tempted to take Rainbow dash with her, or maybe even Lord Tubbington but she'd rather not have to deal with him running off to smoke a cigar, so she leaves her apartment in a rush before she can think more on the idea any further.<p>

She gets the car, goes to the coffee shop to get the usual and continues on the route to Santana's without having to programme her Sat Nat (Which is a total achievement by the way. She bought herself some new shoes in celebration).

She gets to the gates of Santana's community within an hour of the phone call, and surprisingly the mean, lazy guard with the creepy botox face is in the kiosk reading a newspaper. He waves and Brittany does the same, but mentally judges him for having jam on his white shirt.

She sees Santana come into view as she drives up the secluded road, perched on the wall; resting against it with her right leg bent and her arms folded. She's wearing super short denim jeans, wedges and a red and black plaid shirt today, which shows off just enough of her caramel skin in all the right places. Brittany thinks she's never looked hotter.

She slows the car and winds the window down, the air conditioning turned up to its maximum, and looks over to Santana perched on the wall.

"Hi" Santana smirks, looking over her sunglasses.

"Have you decided where you wanna go?" Brittany asks, as she gets out of the car.

Santana looks upward for a moment in contemplation before deciding to answer.

"I think I wanna get ma eats on!"

"Burgers?" Brittany asks. It's lunchtime now, and Brittany is in the mood for some herself. She's glad she suggests it when Santana's gives her a wide smile in response

"Sounds like a plan." she replies smoothly.

Brittany moves around the car to open the passenger door next to the driver's seat. Santana smiles inquistivley and looks over towards her.

Brittany just shrugs and smiles,

"Let's make this a Sunday thing."

Santana almost looks like she's blushing to Brittany when she looks down at her feet. It makes the feeling in her stomach tighten a little more.

She waits patiently for Santana to get in the car, and swiftly closes the door behind her.

As she gets in the car, puts her seatbelt on, she's surrounded by the scent she's only come to know as Santana. It smells of lilies and Oranges, and it's intoxicating.

Brittany thinks she's going to start really enjoying Sundays.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading!<p> 


	5. Six Ways to abstract Sunday

Hello again! Thanks again for reading and reviewing. I'd like to think we're going somewhere with this, right?

Enjoy and if you want to leave a review you totally can. I won't dislike it or anything...

Anyway, on with the story.

* * *

><p>They're sitting somewhere off the beat and track somewhere out in the hills Brittany has never been to before. She knows she's near Santa Monica though, because she can read signs and she passed one on the way to where they are currently. She got to drive the Pacific Coast Highway for the first time today and the scenery was so pretty. The beaches in California were vast and lush from what she had seen.<p>

Living in Ohio, she never got to see the beach apart from the family vacation to Florida when she was eight years old. She remembers that she didn't like the beach her family went to, too much. The sand got everywhere, and she means _everywhere_, and the water was extremely cold, but she really liked how beautiful the ocean looks and how the water flows and ebbs onto the shore. Sometimes, when she lines her eyes with black eyeliner, her eyes look exactly that colour of the ocean. She doesn't brag about it or anything, but she works it like no other. Flawless.

They went to In N Out Burger for their food. Santana was shocked Brittany had yet to taste the 'awesome' so told Brittany where to go, gave her a twenty dollar bill, and lent intoxicatingly close to her so she could talk into the Drive-thru microphone and order for both of them.

Brittany thought her heart was going to explode. It was kind of hot, and it made her legs stick to the leather on the seat. It kind of made her understand the need for pants a little bit when she had to get out of the car afterwards. Ouch.

They listened to the radio as they drove, which Brittany found out that Santana could sing really well. If she was comparing, she would say like an angel who smokes cigars, but she's not comparing at all. Brittany told Santana her voice was 'pretty' and received a shrug and a muttered "I'm just messing around". When she looked at Santana out of the corner of her eye, she totally saw her cheeks turning red. It was kind of adorable.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"How did you, like, get into acting?"

They sit on the bonnet of the car. Brittany made sure to use the blankets she keeps in the back trunk to sit on. She always put blankets in the truck of her cars, 'just in case' her Mom always says. She never understood what the case would ever be for, but the time right now was never better on a car this pretty, and apparently, expensive.

Brittany watches as Santana takes a gulp of her coke with rapt attention. Brittany watches how her throat bobs as she swallows, the way she sips her drink through the straw from the side of her mouth, she notices how Santana averts her eyes from her own as she finished taking her drink. She just notices her.

It's a short while for Brittany to get a response to her question. She sees Santana's face turn from a frown to the mask of stoicism she wears so well.

"My Dad thought I should get a hobby and thought acting classes would do the trick." Her hands fall loudly into her lap as she continues. "Turns out I was good at it, and got an agent out of it, and here I am I guess." Santana shrugs and looks down into her lap, playing with her fingers like a nervous tick.

Brittany scrunches her features in confusion,

"On the bonnet of a car?"

It causes Santana to look up and give Brittany a genuine smile. Brittany thinks it's the widest and prettiest she's seen her smile yet.

"Yeah," she replies laughingly. "...On the bonnet of a car."

* * *

><p>They're sitting; facing each other in Starbucks. Sitting in comfy red couches in an intimate corner where their voices carry easily and quietly over the soothing sounds of jazz music permeating from the speakers. It's warm and inviting, and lazy in just the way Sundays should be.<p>

The place is virtually empty save for a couple not shy of PDA (which Brittany thinks looks really gross) by the window and a dark haired man with those thick rimmed glasses that all the geeks in high school used to wear, typing away on his laptop.

They haven't been seated long, and Brittany almost feels like she could hibernate like a bear in the seats they're that comfy. She doesn't try to though, and the sound of Santana's coffee mug hitting the table as she puts it back down after taking a drink pulls Brittany out of her lull.

"Can I ask you a question?" She asks quietly.

"Sure."

"Where are you from?"

Santana delays her answer, choosing to take another drink of her coffee before replying. Formulating her answer before speaking it aloud,

"Well, I was born in New York. I stopped in a town or two in the middle of Bumfuck Nowheresville along the way to get to here, but here I am."

Santana's tone seems almost bitter, and Brittany wants to question it but managed to keep her mouth from ruining a good thing.

Brittany lets out a quiet 'oh' instead and sips on her iced caramel macchiato, and looks over to the PDA overload by the window. Still gross.

"I'm from Lima, Ohio." She states absently; her eyes still on the couple by the window.

"I know you are." Santana laughs softly, and replies just as absently. Brittany didn't listen as attentively as she normally would have, as her eyes are sickeningly glued to the guy shoving his tongue down his girlfriend's throat.

She finds herself shuddering at such bad technique.

"I'm glad I'm you found your way here."

"Ditto."

* * *

><p>They're sitting in the R &amp; D Kitchen restaurant in Santa Monica and Brittany thinks it's one of the coolest restaurants she's been to. It's not that busy that it makes her feel all rushed and weird that she has to eat quickly to get out of the place. Also 'the vibe' which Tina always goes on about in restaurants is cool. The black booth seats they're currently seated in makes her feel cosy and watching Santana sitting opposite her makes her feel warm. Santana smiles stiffly at her every time she catches her eye.<p>

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

Brittany fidgets in her seat; eyes wide and fiddling with her shirt,

"Do you smile often?" she asks.

Santana's frown deepens in confusion,

"What do you mean?"

Brittany starts to fidget in her seat again, and fiddle with the stirrer in her class of coke,

"Well, you don't seem to really smile a lot," she shruggs, chancing a look at the girl opposite her. "...And you have a really pretty smile, so it makes me kinda sad that you don't smile very much."

Brittany wonders if she's said the wrong thing, as Santana's eyes harden and her lips become drawn in a thin line. It's like she's shut down and become a really pretty robot before her eyes.

She watches as the raven haired woman takes a sip of her iced tea, licks her lips, before reclining back in the booth; shrugging her shoulders,

"I could say the exact same thing about you." She replies evenly.

They sit in silence after that, and Brittany's not entirely sure if Santana threw her question back on her. Santana notices her too.

It's not long before their food comes and the sounds of cutlery hitting plates, and conversations turn to their food. It's not awkward, the silences aren't uncomfortable, and when Santana looks into Brittany's eyes she feels like she could get lost in the girl opposite. Which kind of isn't good because of her awful map reading skills, but she doesn't really care and would kind of enjoy being lost regularly on an occasion like this one.

"Do you wanna share a dessert?"

"Sure."

They don't talk much, and yet Brittany thinks she's never enjoyed spending time with anyone as much as she does right now.

* * *

><p>It's just gone 8:09pm when they pull up outside of Santana's driveway, and the street lights illuminate the area with an orange hue.<p>

Santana gets out of the car before Brittany has taken her seatbelt off, which disappoints Brittany, because opening the car was one of her favourite things to do.

She hears Santana run round the car, and knock on the window next to her, which she proceeds to press the button to wind the window down.

Her face is met with Santana's inches from her own, close enough to see Santana's mocha coloured eyes shining in the dark.

She's pretty sure her breath just hitched.

"Hey, turn that frown upside down, Britts! Let's make this a Sunday thing."

Santana pats her shoulder and lifts herself back up and walks up the driveway, back to her house.

"See you tomorrow, Santana!" She waves animatedly at her retreating figure.

Santana turns around back towards Brittany, and smirks. Tipping her head, she salutes in Brittany's direction,

"See you at the ass-crack of dawn, Britt Britt!"

When Brittany goes to bed that night, she'll dream of beaches, mountains and a beautiful Hispanic girl that's really guarded, but smells really good.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading everyone!<p> 


	6. This is Everything

_Sorry for taking so long to update, real life has kicked me in the preverbial backside a lot. I should be getting a few updates out quick now I've managed to get some spare time. I'm not entirely happy with this chapter but I'm never completely happy._

_Thanks for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

><p>Brittany has been awake for an hour and a half now and for all intents and purposes – she's totally not feeling her usual early morning buzz.<p>

The lack of sleep from the night previously was making her feel the chill of the LA morning in a way she doesn't normally, as she stands by Mulsanne waiting for Santana to appear. The fact it was still dark didn't help her situation either.

It's too early for Brittany's favourite local coffee place to be open to let her indulge in her iced coffee drinks too. It makes her sad and a little cranky that she can't get her caramel goodness on.

Instead, she went to one of the many 24-hour convenience stores she passes on the way to get one of those sugary energy drinks her Dad banned her from drinking at fifteen because she might get wings and fly away. She makes sure to not get the one that gives you wings. She also makes sure to get three so she can have a back up and one for Santana in-case she needs a pick up too. She's awesome and thoughtful like that.

She decided to listen to Tina's 'morning hyper megamix' playlist that she'd made for her on itunes as she drove to Santana's house. She thought it may help to make her hyper and mega, but it didn't really do anything like it. The sounds of techno beats and heavy bass just made her head throb along to the beat.

She takes a sip of the highly caffeinated energy drink as she leans against Mulsanne. The drink is supposed to taste like guerrilla or zen, or something that Brittany is too tired to care about, when really all it tastes like is cough syrup with a fizz. It's got nothing on her beloved iced coffee drinks. Woe.

Brittany doesn't have to wait long until she hears the sound of footsteps walking down the drive from Santana's house. The sound is lacking the familiar clack of a stiletto heel against the asphalt that Brittany has gotten used to hear when waiting for Santana.

As Santana comes into view, Brittany notices that not only the stilettos have gone (to be replaced with a pair of badass blue and yellow high top sneakers), but so have the figure hugging dresses and oversized purse. Instead she sees Santana in a pair of baggy blue denim jeans hanging dangerously low on her hips. Her black vest rides up slightly showing the caramel skin of her midriff. Brittany wipes her chin and clears her throat at the sight. Brittany thinks she rocks a vest better than she ever has.

Instead of the oversized handbags Santana seemed to have a never-ending collection of, she was shouldering a brown leather messenger bag with a blue plaid shirt jacket hanging over the opening, and a medium sized cardboard box that held items that Brittany couldn't see.

Brittany quickly pops open the trunk of Mulsanne before bounding her way over to Santana. The energy drink is totally doing its job right now.

"Morning Santana!" She says as brightly as she can.

Santana smiles tiredly at the greeting, her eyes crinkling in sincerity. Brittany tilts her head in confusion after a few moments of staring at the box in the smaller girl's hands. Santana follows her gaze to the box and shrugs,

"I'm gunna be like living at that studio lot for the next three months, I may as well bring some of my shit to make it more comfortable."

Brittany takes the box from Santana's hands, and places the box in the trunk.

"I'm supposed to open the door!" Brittany exclaims indignantly; her face scrunching into a frown as she sees Santana get in the passenger door.

Santana winds the window down, smirk plastered on her face.

"Your hands were full!" She remarks playfully, "'Sides, makes me feel more worthwhile doing this difficult task of opening and shutting my own door."

Brittany gets in the driver's seat and buckles herself before turning her head to look at Santana,

"Just let me do it when we're in actual public places." She puts her hand up to her mouth and whispers conspiratorially, "This city has spies, and they will tell my boss!"

She looks up in the rear-view to find Santana smiling ruefully out the window.

"We can do that." She replies softly.

Brittany starts up the car and drives onwards to the studio lot.

Brittany keeps making glances up to the rear-view mirror and catches Santana yawning. It's adorable and makes the caffeine kick all the more prominent in her chest.

Santana catches her looking after the fifth time and smirks back in return.

"I'm fucking tired." She says through a yawn.

"I got you one of those energy drink things. I put it in the refrigerator in the arm rest. I got the one which had the nicest design and biggest can."

"Thanks, B."

Brittany hears the sound of the can being opened as she keeps her eyes firmly on the road. It's not long before she hears moans of disapproval.

"Ugh, tastes like carbonated cough syrup!"

It causes Brittany to giggle at the tone in the voice of the dark haired girl in the back.

"I know, right?"

"Thanks though. I'll be getting a buzz soon enough."

The rest of the journey is filled with the sounds of early morning radio shock jocks and fleeting conversations about everything and nothing. Brittany thinks it's the most they've ever talked.

It's not long until she's at the entrance of the studio lot, greeting the security guards who she always sees on a morning, entering the lot and changing the usual direction of going to the production offices, but to the trailers on the other side of the lot.

She goes past people pushing lights, clothes racks, and even fake limbs on a gurney (which was kind of creepy and something Brittany totally didn't need to see this early on a morning). It's the most Hollywood she's ever seen Hollywood and she's kind of excited by the whole thing.

The trailer lot comes into view and so does the lot she's supposed to park in. Brittany thinks it looks like a high end white trash trailer park. Without the trash and the smell.

She parks in the nearest space available and brings the car to a halt. Her eyes flicker over to the rear-view mirror again to see Santana placing the sunglasses she's never without onto her face.

"I'll take your things for you."

She gets out of the car and opens Santana's passenger door, as she sees an African-American man with a ginger mohawk and the ugliest sweater, shorts and sandals combo Brittany has ever seen running dramatically waving around a clipboard. He's totally on her fashion disaster list for wearing socks with the sandals too. So much gross. She manages to resist the urge to shudder as he bounds up to her while she takes Santana's bag and jacket.

"You're late!" Exclaims the flamboyant man bouncing on his toes, his hands flailing so much, he knocks the headset he's wearing off his head with the clipboard he's holding.

Brittany watches as Santana rolls her eyes and moves in front of her,

"Excuse _you_, Ginger Snaps!" She grits through her teeth angrily, "No I'm fucking not!"

As Brittany shuts the trunk of the car just as quickly and quietly as she opened it (to not interrupt the drama of course), she wonders if she's going to see one of these 'bitch fits' she was warned about.

"You had a 4:30am call time!" The man (who Brittany thinks is 100% gay) taps his watch condescendingly.

Santana glares heatedly at him.

"And what time is it?" She fumes as she angrily swipes her phone out her pocket and presses a button on to light up the screen. The screen that displays the time as 4:18am. The man looks down at his clipboard sheepishly while Santana folds her arms and smirks smugly at him.

Brittany thinks it's kind of hot this 'bitch fit' thing.

"Sorry Miss Lopez." He mutters, finding the floor suddenly interesting.

"It's fine." Santana replies back nonchalantly, slapping the fashion disaster's shoulder while doing so. "I guess you're new to this sitch? Don't yell at me or 'the talent'" she continues, using air quotes around 'the talent', "'cause I can yell back ten time's hard, kay?"

He nods back dumbly at her. His face is a picture.

"Now, what's your name?"

"B-brenden." He replies timidly.

Santana flips her hair and clicks her fingers at the same time and turns in the direction of the trailers.

"Ginger Snaps it is!"

Brenden ushers Santana (and Brittney. She thinks she may have been forgotten about but she has Santana's things, and she can't exactly drive off with them) to the direction of the trailers.

Brittany follows behind them with Santana's box of things. She spend more time being nosey than listening to the PA ramble on incoherently to Santana as he showed them to her trailer. She sees a toothbrush and toothpaste, perfume, a weird nude statue of those creepy mannequin things you see in stores modelling clothes. She's pretty sure there's a leather bound notebook and some pens and pencils in there too, but she's really trying not to be too nosey now.

Brenden guides them soon enough to Santana's trailer, leading them up the steps to the door, he opens it.

Brittney is kind of amazed at the trailer. It's no bigger than the living area in her apartment, but the brown leather couches, the plush desk with an even plusher leather desk chair, the pimped out TV with the XBox and entertainment system Tina will be envious of, and the bed that takes up a full side of the end wall has kind of left her speechless.

She hazards a look at Santana and sees her eyes surveying the trailer. She looks calm but her body language is stiff, betraying her. Brittany is not the only one effected.

"So I'll come back to get you when Hair and make-up's ready for you."

With that, Brenden runs off somewhere else and leaves both of them to gape around the large trailer.

"Wow." Brittney says in wonderment.

"Yeah." Santana breathes out, her eyes wide as she starts to walk slowly around, touching various pieces of furniture as she goes.

Brittany places the box on the desk and takes the items out so Santana can arrange them.

Brittney watches Santana carefully as she sits down on the bed on the other side of the 'room'.

"Are you okay?" She asks quietly from where she stands.

"Just..." she watches Santana with trepidation, as she looks down at her hands hanging loosely in her lap, trying to find the right words.

Brittany has never seen Santana look so unsure before. It makes her feel slightly special that Santana is showing this side of her, but concerned all the same. Her look reminds Brittany of the time Coach Sylvester made her vice-captain of the cheerleading squad in senior year when Debbie Debone fell and broke her pelvis in a pyramid gone wrong. She remembers being frozen like an iceberg Titanic hit. She didn't know what to do or say. Her mouth felt dry and her face felt warm. Then someone slapped her ass and pushed her shoulder and everything went back to normal.

"It's just..." she starts, struggling to still find the words, "everything's really happening, ya know?"

Santana looks overwhelmed.

Brittany moves to sit next to Santana on the bed and puts the box down next to her. She doesn't know at all.

"Not really."

Santana laughs shortly, her eyes roaming around the trailer. There's a moment of silence, the atmosphere heavy of something Brittany is hesitant to put her finger on.

"I've never had a decked out trailer like this before. Pretty sweet."

In a not-so-unusual moment of acting on impulse, Brittany takes Santana's hand on her lap and places them in her own.

She flinches in a way that makes Brittany think Santana is not used to human contact like this which makes her chest tighten and heart race. She feels the trembles throughout her body, not entirely sure if it's her or Santana trembling.

It may be the energy drink. She will totally blame it on that if she gets a karate chop to the neck.

"You're going to be totally awesome..." she whispers, looking into the depths of Santana's eyes and smiles, "I just know it."

She feels Santana's breath on her cheek, only realising how close they actually are. Her eyes roam the dark haired girl's face, and she watches closely as the other girl does exactly the same. She looks even more beautiful up close.

_If only I could just..._

"_Miss Lopez? Hair and Make-up are ready for you now!" _

They're snapped out of their reverie by a tap on the door, making them both flinch away. Their intertwined hands suddenly no more. Brittney feels the loss more than anything.

Santana clears her throat, and just as quickly as the moment of vulnerability showed, it's locked away behind her unwavering armour of impassiveness.

She grabs her jacket from her messenger bag, and quickly puts it on while Brittney stares at her blankly for a few moments before making her way to the door.

"Catch you later, I guess." Santana says tightly.

Brittney opens the door for them and lets Santana out first.

"Go be awesome!" Brittney says brightly. Her smile plastered on her face.

Santana looks over the bridge of her sunglasses and smirks,

"You bet I am."

They leave the trailer door and go in opposite directions. Brittany back to Mulsanne, Santana to the hair and make-up trailer. As she walks away she finds herself turning her head back in the direction Santana left in. She looks back to find Santana doing the same. Brittany smiles widely at her, and tips her head in acknowledgment. She catches Santana giving her an unreadable look on her face before falling back in line with the capital G gay PA talking a mile a minute once again to Santana. Brittany's not exactly sure what it all means, but she knows this is possibly the best and worst thing to happen to her since driving Santana.

When she leave the lot, she makes sure to get herself a caramel iced coffee drink before going back to the garage for Mulsanne's weekly service. She is so going for a nap.

* * *

><p>When Brittany picks Santana up sixteen hours later, they don't talk about anything at all. Santana wears her sunglasses despite it being well into night-time, her hair hiding her face. There's a stormy atmosphere that even Brittany knows not to question just yet. And when she looks closely enough before Santana rushes up her driveway leading to her home, she notices the tracks left from tears once dried.<p>

* * *

><p><em>Thanks for reading and reviewing. Means a lot.<em>


	7. The Deception Parade

_Bit of a temporary change in writing style for this chapter. Just a bit. Again very specific style of writing I'm going for in this, and I do hope I'm pulling it off well enough to engage._

_Thanks again for reading and onto the next chapter! Enjoy. Or don't._

* * *

><p>"What's eating you, Britt?"<p>

"I had toast for breakfast." Brittany replies vacantly; her eyes still glued to the Katy Perry video on the TV.

" You've got your mean mugging face on, and I know what causes that..." Tina says as she takes a handful of peanut M & M's from the family sized bag on the coffee table, and stuffs them all in her mouth, "Matters of the heart."

Brittany continues to stare vacantly at the TV.

"It's Carly the latte girl? Isn't it?"

Tina's question goes ignored. She elbows Brittany playfully in the ribs getting no response out of the girl sitting next to her.

"Laars from your Krumping class?" She guesses again.

Brittany's phone makes a short but shrill bleeping sound, notifying the room of a text message.

As Katy Perry's E.T music video ends, Rhianna's S&M begins to play. Tina watches for a moment until the movement of Brittany leaving from her spot on the couch distracts her.

"Are you going to answer any of my questions?" She asks. Her voice rises in volume; her irritation is plain to hear.

Brittany shrugs and makes her way into her room.

"I've got to go to work." She replies from the other room.

Tina takes another handful of M&M's and eats them one by one this time, watching the TV passively and listening to Brittany gathering things from the other room.

"We never talk _you_ anymore!" Tina says, her tone filling with melancholy as she watches Brittany take the M&M's from the coffee table.

"When I have something to say to you about me, I will."

With that Brittany says a half hearted farewell and walks out of the apartment with her canvas bag and her pack of peanut M&M's, leaving a very confused Tina.

* * *

><p>"Do you know why you're here?" The stranger in Carl's office with the deep voice, blue suit and slicked back blonde hair spoke.<p>

"Because it's my place of work?" She shrugs back nonchalantly.

She looks over the man's shoulder to find Carl with eyes wide, moving his hand back and forth under his chin, telling her to cut it out without the words.

The man smirks behind his aviator sunglasses.

"Cute."

"My name is Gary Leonard." He says, throwing a business card in her direction. It manages to hit her square in the stomach and he waits patiently for her to pick up the card to read who exactly he is.

"Public relations extraordinaire!" His face smug as smooths down the lapels of his suit. "I'm kind of a big deal."

She traces the raised writing on the card absently and the man paces behind the desk in a slow, and calculated manner.

"I'm here because you've been driving my _very_ special client around for the past month. Haven't you, Brittany S. Pierce?"

He moves around the desk slowly and perches himself directly in front of Brittany. He just as slowly removes the shades that hide his eyes from his face. His icy blue stare now visible, and manages to make him all the more intimating.

"Miss Lopez has been..." He looks to the ceiling and kisses his teeth for agonising moments, looking for the right words before going forward, "...acting out. Shall we say? And now, I have to clean up her mess."

Brittany slinks down in her seat, trying to avoid looking at the man. She refuses to cower in his presence, giving in to the power and the atmosphere that is plaguing Carl's office.

"Have you noticed anything...out of the ordinary regarding my client Brittany S. Pierce?"

She hesitantly shakes her head and mutters a "no" before she starts to bite her nails.

"Would you care to do me a favour Miss Brittany S. Pierce?"

Brittany does not respond to him, and looks beyond him yet again to find Carl. His face is contorted in a deep frown and his hands are folded tightly across his chest. His eyes are sympathetic and his moustache is bristling.

He looks helpless.

"I can ruin you before you even start in this town Miss Pierce" The tone is mocking. It's sweet and sympathetic and ominous. He moves his hands towards her face causing her to flinch as he moves a stray lock of hair that's fallen from the ponytail she wears behind her ear. "Don't make me have to do that."

* * *

><p>She did what he asked. She picked up Santana just like she always did. She was doing her job as always.<p>

It didn't stop this time feeling different.

Feeling wrong.

The drive was silent. There was no conversation. No music. The only sounds that could be heard were of the dulcet tones the engine and the traffic they past en route.

She didn't dare to look in the rear view mirror to chance a look at the girl in the backseat. She was scared that she'll be found out. Caught in the act of something she's not sure she can prevent herself from feeling any more.

She listens intently to the instructions of the Sat Nav held securely by the cradle on the dashboard.

_'You have reached your destination.'_

She gets out the car and opens the door for the girl in the back and catches her eyes before she slips on her sunglasses. Her breaths are short and sharp, her hands wringing in her lap as she rises. Her face wears a the mask of stoic beauty as it usually does so well. Her impeccable make-up and her outfit of black skinny jeans and blue transparent shirt showing her black balconette bra, are as flawless as ever. But when Brittany looks deeply into the dark eyes that have come to be so familiar, she sees a girl full of regret and sadness.

It's like she's saying she's sorry for thinks Brittany has no inkling about.

The girl leaves without saying anything, leaving only the scent of her perfume in her wake. Brittany can only watch her walk into something she wishes neither of them were a part of.

When she drives away, all she can think about is how she feels she's just fed Santana to the lions.

* * *

><p>"Do you have something to say about<em> you<em> yet?" Tina asks as she takes a sip of her iced tea.

They're sitting outside in a quiet Italian restaurant in the afternoon sunset. She still wears her uniform. Her mind still on her job. Her mind still on the girl who left her hours ago.

Tina clears her throat, bringing her back to the present.

"I don't think I like my regular job anymore." She finds herself saying solemnly.

"Why?"

"I can't say why." she replies automatically.

Tina eyes her curiously. Mulling her words over before she speaks again.

"Regular jobs are meant to be hated, Britt." Tina replies flippantly.

"I don't hate it." She starts to play absently with her napkin. "I just don't enjoy what's happening."

She watches Tina's face as it surveys her own. She watches as she tilts her head and smiles sadly back at her.

"And you can't say why, right?"

Brittany's lack of reaction is all she needs before Tina changes the subject and eats the bruschetta in front of her.

* * *

><p>Its well into the evening now as she drives around the streets of Hollywood and sips on the last of her caramel Iced coffee. Her Sat Nav is programmed once again. She's knows the name of the address and the area it is situated in well enough to know - it's a residential area.<p>

Her mind was numb. She consumed herself with driving and getting to her destination in one piece.

* * *

><p>She stands by the open passenger door, waiting for a sign that the night will soon be over.<p>

When the porch light is turned on and the door to the Spanish Villa styled house opens, she makes sure to look away from the people in the doorway. She doesn't want to disturb. She wants to ignore it and do her job.

Instead, she watches the overweight balding man with a telephoto lens so large, it needs a monopod to keep it upright, attached to a camera rapidly snapping image after image.

It occurs to her, as she hears the sound of footsteps making her way over to the car, that she'll be in some of these images. She hopes for the first time that she's been here that nobody notices her. That this is something she will not be recognized for.

Santana gets nearer and she watches as she saunters almost seductively back to the car. She watches Santana look back to the door and throw a smouldering look and blow a kiss to the silhouette in the doorway.

It doesn't stop the feeling of dread clawing its way up her spine.

* * *

><p>"Welcome to mother fucking Hollywood!" She slurs as she looks back to Brittany. Her eyes are watery and filled with rage.<p>

The girl storms away from the car, planting heavy footsteps up the driveway into her home. She wants to chase the girl. Sober her up with comfort and care. Tell her everything is okay. Wrap her up and forget everything she had to do today.

But she doesn't. She quietly gets back in the car and makes the journey back to the garage to find Carl in his office.

"Go home kid." He says quietly as he pats her on the shoulder. "Have a few days off. You kind of deserve them."

"I don't want a few days off. I just want to drive Santana."

He smiles warmly at her and puts his arm around her shoulder.

"Can I wear shorts those few days instead?"

Brittany flinches when Carl bursts into fits of laughter. When she joins him moments later for reasons she doesn't understand, she feels like everything is falling apart and tries her hardest not to cry.

* * *

><p>She can't get to sleep. After endless tossing and turning, she decides to get up and get out. She borrows Tina's truck and makes the drive to the exclusive neighbourhood she's become accustomed to driving to everyday. And when she sits outside Santana's beautiful home until the sun begins to rise she knows she's only moments away from finding the courage to finally knock on the door.<p>

And she will.

* * *

><p><em>Thanks again for reading! Hoping to have an update by Thursday.<em>


	8. Waking Up, The Lights Are On

_Hello. I'm sorry I haven't updated in a while, I had to travel for work for a while and also me, and my laptop are on the outs. Me and Glee are also on the outs too btw. I've gotten to a point where I find gifs more enjoyable than watching the full episodes, which is a sad, sad day. It's no fault but of the writers I'm sorry to say. #Freethecast_

_Anyway I'm waffling and I hope you guys find this chapter worth a little of the wait. Sorry to leave you guys hanging. Thank you all for continuing to read and review. It means a lot. Smiley face._

_Oh and just a tidbit – for this chapter, I was listening to Les Lumieres by Idiot Pilot pretty extensively on repeat. So I guess it's suggested listening?_

* * *

><p>Brittany has been standing outside of Santana's awfully flashy and beautiful beech wood door with frosted glass windows for about thirty minutes now, and for all intents and purposes – she's a little chilly.<p>

Goosebumps prickle the skin on her arms, as she places her hands in the pockets of the grey sweatpants she didn't bother to change out of when deciding to come over impulsively. She regrets not picking up a jacket before leaving.

She just needed to know Santana was okay. She just wanted to apologise to the girl for doing something and being a part of something that she didn't understand, or really even know at all.

Her head hurts and her chest aches. She thinks for a moment in-between the worry that she may be having one of those vagina attacks her Mother would talk about her Grandma having, her chest is so tight. She always wondered if she mispronounced that word.

Brittany bites her lip, and kicks a stone from gravel that makes up Santana's driveway as she concentrates on staring at the doorway. She eyes the doorbell, illuminated with blue LED lights that Brittany is attracted to like a moth to the flame. It's so pretty, which is just enticing her to press it.

Which she does.

Ten minutes from now.

Brittany stares at the doorway so hard, her vision starts to blur. It isn't until she finds a blurry outline of a dark haired person in front of her that she's brought back to the present.

She looks at the girl standing in front of her, dressed similarly to the way she is – black sweatpants and a faded band t-shirt that Brittany's never heard of, and an oversized blue knitted scarf wrapped around her neck.

Her face is make-up free. Her skin looks several shades darker in the low light, and several shades more beautiful.

Santana looks demure behind the door. Timid. Her shoulders are rounded and hunched forward, and she looks towards her under her lashes. It's a look Brittany hasn't seen in her body language before. It's almost like she doesn't have to hide in this environment any more.

Brittany tilts her head, takes a shaky step forward, and tries to remember how to speak.

"Um. Hi." She forces out awkwardly. The back of her neck suddenly becomes itchy and she sheepishly goes to scratch it.

She notices Santana's lips quirk up in a small smile, which flashes a look of something Brittany can't really read very well.

"Hello." Santana replies back quietly, and looks to her feet.

There's silence. There's nothing but the sound of rustling trees from the slight breeze that has picked up, and the sound of the birds tweeting their morning call. Brittany finds herself breathing in deeply, the thump of her chest making her movements stiff.

She wants to look anywhere but the girl in front of her, but she can't take her eyes from her. Santana looks on encouragingly.

Neither of them knows what to say, and Brittany isn't sure how to start. Her heart still races, and her head pounds. She feels panicked without understanding why.

"I just wanted to say I'm sorry." She gulps loudly and Santana tilts her head in confusion and something that looks a lot like concern.

"What for?" She asks. Her brow creasing slightly as she folds her arms in front of her.

She scratches her head. She's starting to feel odd. Light-headed. Ill.

"I don't know." She mumbles out.

Her vision starts to swim. She feels drunk and far too warm.

The last time she felt like this, she had drank eleven too many banana Sambuca shots, and hit her head off the corner of an open cupboard door in the kitchen of Dave Karofsky's place back in Lima. I was at one of those infamous McKinley High School Party that was the talk of all the local schools in the country. Just like Brittany was too. Her head swam and she emptied the entire contents of the stomach and then passed out. It was gross. Luckily she didn't pass out from the knock but from the alcohol, and was cured with an actual banana and her favourite grape flavoured Gatorade, and she went home with a bruise on her forehead and a skip in her step.

She knows she is swaying on the spot, but she can't feel it. She can't feel anything but the ache in her chest and the pain in her head. She doesn't feel like she's in her own body any more.

Her lips feel cracked, and her mouth feels dry. They've felt like that all day, and normally she has her cherry chapstick to de-chap, but it's only now does it feel like her mouth is full of sand.

Her head pounds away and she tries to find her breath.

She feels a pair hands on her shoulders, on her face, smoothing down her hair; everywhere, forcing her back to the present.

A present with deep, brown, concerned eyes looking so intensely towards her, that she can always get lost in.

"Hey, you okay?" She asks slowly, and sharply.

Brittany scrunches her face up in confusion. She's not sure how this managed to turn into being about her, but the way Santana wraps her arm around her waist and fists the back of her shirt makes her feel even warmer than she suddenly started to feel.

There's sweat standing on her forehead now, and she feels the small caramel skinned hand wipe the droplets away. It soothes her without managing to make her feel any better, at all.

Santana turns them round and drags Brittany along with her towards the door.

"Let's get you inside, 'kay?"

She feels like she's underwater. Her hearing turns to nothing but the sound of ringing. Her vision blurs. She feels nauseous and she feels dizzy. She can no longer concentrate on Santana's arm around her waist, or the weight she puts on the other girl's body, or even the dragging of feet as she puts one foot in front of the other. All she can concentrate on are Santana's lips so warm and close to her ear whispering words she's not present enough to understand. Her breath sending shivers down her spine.

Then she falls down the rabbit hole, and everything turns to darkness.

* * *

><p><em>She falls in and out of consciousness. She doesn't know how much time has passed. She doesn't know where she is. All she feels is the comfort and warmth and the soft feel of what she's cocooned in. Her right arm feels stiff, but she doesn't move it. She catches tail end of foreign conversations between voices that sound familiar and voices that she's never heard before.<em>

_"Ella recuerda?"_

_"Nada."_

_"Decirle a su." A deep voice says quietly._

_"No puedo." Her voice sounds strained. Her natural rasp is even raspier._

_"¿Por qué? Esto podría ayudar a?"_

_"I don't think anyone needs to know anything."_

_"No lo guardes para ti. Que te mata."_

_"Que ya tiene."_

_"Mija..."_

_"I'm trying. I'm really trying, Papa."_

* * *

><p><em>She knows she's the only one in the room, but she also knows there's someone not too far away. Their presence is so close. She feels it the only way she can with her.<em>

_"I don't know, but if I did it's not like I would tell you anyway."_

_"I can assure you, Mr. Reese, there is nothing...untoward gone on. I haven't killed your employee, I haven't maimed her. I haven't sold her to __sex trade either, if that's where your sick and possibly perverted shrivelled little mind went to. She's unwell. She's exhausted, and I just don't need her services, or anyone else's from your company today. I can take the blame; I don't give a shit but don't punish her for it. It's my fault. All of this."_

_Silence._

_"Good, and thank you. It won't happen again."_

* * *

><p>Her eyes are closed but she feels her surroundings. She can hear the soothing sounds of guitar based music from another room, the breeze of a ceiling fan subtly hitting her face, and the smell of vanilla ice cream and cinnamon sticks. It's comforting, but disorientating.<p>

Her eyes are heavy and her arm is still stiff. She feels lucid but groggy.

She feels the presence of someone enter the room, and the rush of air of someone quickly moving into the room.

"Papa! She's coming to!" It sounds faraway, and a little frantic.

She's still at war with her eyelids.

Brittany feels whatever surface she's lying on dip as she takes in the frist thing she sees when her eyes open this time.

A light mauve ceiling, with a black ceiling fan chandelier hanging down into the centre of the room.

"Keep still, Britt Britt." says the voice that sounds so warm and caring. She knows the voice is Santana's, and it keeps her calm. As does the warm palm rested on her arm, and the smell of lilies and oranges that is just _her_.

Suddenly a tall, dark haired man, with grey peppering his hair and caramel skin a few shades darker than colour of Santana's peers over her with a pen torch and a stethoscope around his neck.

The bed moves as Santana rises from her side to give the man, space.

"Ah, nice you see you awake Brittany." His voice is cheerful and kind, "you had my 'Tana worried here." He nods his head backwards to where Santana is resting on the mahogany set of drawers directly opposite, looking pensive with her arms folded in front of her.

"Try to keep calm," The man says clearly and calmly, "My name is Dr. Miguel Lopez and I'm just going to do a few checks to make sure you're okay."

"What..."

Brittany struggles to find her words. It feels like the time she put marbles in her mouth and she tried to speak and almost choked when her Mother screamed at her and her little sister to spit them out. She may have swallowed one, but her Mother never needs to know about that.

"You fainted, Brittany." He says calmly, "You were extremely dehydrated and exhausted. My little assistant, Santana and I have had to monitor you extensively and rehydrate you using an IV. You're lucky Santana is so well prepared for emergencies! And by that I mean, she's too lazy, and smart to deal with hangovers like normal people."

"Dad! You're making me sound like an illegal medical supplier, right now!"

He chuckles to himself as he pulls back her eyelids, and shines a light in her eye.

"You're lucky Santana has a doctor as a Dad that's taught her well, or you'd be waking up in a hospital and not in a nice house in the hills!"

Brittany looks over to Santana, who averts her gaze as she does so. She notices that her cheeks are reddening.

"What...time is it?"

"It's just gone eleven-forty two AM." He makes her sit up gently, "you would have been awake a lot earlier but I gave you a sedative after the rehydration treatment to give you some rest."

Her warns her of the cold stethoscope he puts on her back, which causes her to flinch and her arm to throb slightly.

Brittany looked to the man poking and prodding her face. She notices the long eyelashes, and eyes not too dissimilar to Santana's. His emotions are a lot easier to read than Santana's.

He lets her know calmly and surely what he does as he checks her over. As he takes her blood pressure (which Brittany hates, and makes her feel stressed because she doesn't like how tight the cuff gets, only to deflate and get even tighter), about why her arm hurts (it's where he put the IV drip in her arm), putting a new bandage over the bruise and deep scratch of where the drip was entered. He's kind and friendly and all the things she remembers of her old paediatrician back in Lima.

Because sometimes she has to remember not all doctors have manners like Dr. House.

"Well everything seems in order; clean bill of health! We just need you to go easy for a couple of days. Okay?"

Brittany nods her head. It makes her feel suddenly restless.

"Do I get a lollipop?" She blurts out.

Santana fixes her with a wide smile with eyes filled with something that suits her so very well.

"I'm sorry Brittany but I don't have any on me" He says jovially, "But you do need to eat something, so what do you say - care to have lunch with myself and my daughter?"

"I would be honoured, Dr Lopez."

Brittany watches as Santana comically rolls her eyes and places a hand on her hip from behind the man, mimicking his posture.

"I don't want any of that 'Mr Lopez' here, Brittany!" He chastises her, and emphasises by patting her shoulder lightly, "please - just call me Miguel." He says kindly, and takes her hand into his remarkably soft one.

"Lucky for you and I, my Santana is a fantastic cook!" He continues.

Brittany chances another look at Santana to see her rolls her eyes again and laugh shortly at her father's words. She raises a perfectly manicured finger and flicks her hair behind her shoulder before stepping forward to speak,

"Yeah no. More like we're having take-out and _you,_ Daddy dearest, are going out to go get it." Miguel turns round to see the overly saccharine smile Santana gives her Father.

It's a show they're putting on and Brittany finds it fascinating. She can't stop the giggle that escapes her. Miguel turns back towards her and his eyes narrow in amusement.

"You hear how she talks to me, Brittany?" He asks incredulously. His dark, bushy eyebrows are raised and his eyes are wide. Brittany can't help but giggle at his antics. It makes her miss her own Dad. He shakes his head with a warm smile on his face. "I suppose the head of the house rules all. So what do you girls want? Nothing too greasy, or spicy!"

"I'll have whatever you're having." Brittany replies back with a small smile.

"Santana?" He enquires gently.

She shrugs, her eyes are hard and her posture is sluggish. She rolls her eyes and sighs,

"As long as it's edible..."

"...you'll eat it." His smile is sad as it reaches his eyes. He looks like he's gone somewhere beyond this room. Santana just looks bored as she surveys her nails.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Brittany, and we can talk when I get back!"

He leaves the room, not before kissing Santana on the cheek, speaking something foreign to Brittany's ears. "Hablar con ella." he whispers. Santana flinches and looks away, to look out of the large door length window nearest to where she stands. Brittany is pretty sure there is a perfect view of the city out there. In the midday light, her eyes glow almost mahogany and it takes Brittany's breathe away.

She doesn't realise she's staring until Santana looks back to her, surveying her features with unabashed concern.

Brittany looks away, embarrassed at being caught. She takes that time to look around the room.

She's pretty sure the room is bigger than her apartment. The walls are painted a deep and dark violet and the furniture looks heavy and mahogany, just like Santana's eyes had looked in the light. Brittany thinks Tina would die if she got to see it, because it looks just like the design scheme her interior designer Mother had their basement hangout back in Lima.

There's a flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, behind where Santana stands, and two door length window, letting light bleed into the room. Brittany's certain they lead out to a balcony. There's two doors on Brittany's right hand side, which look to be a walk-in closest and an en-suite bathroom.

Brittany thinks it's super nice.

"This room is super nice."

"Thanks, I did it myself."

Then there's the bed. The bedspread is again a deep violet, with brown and violet cushions surrounding her. Her head moulds into the pillows like they were just made for her. The bed is low to the ground and a sturdy shape, which makes Brittany think, is probably heavy to move. There's a dark brown leather diamond patterned headboard that takes up half the wall.

It's probably the best bed Brittany's ever been in.

"I'm comfy" she says dreamily, settling further into the pillows.

"You better be comfy, that bed took months of preparation to get perfecto. I take my sleep very seriously."

"I feel like I'm on a cloud."

Santana laughs which makes Brittany grin back at her. They fall into a comfortable silence as Santana moves to open the windows.

"I... called in sick to your boss for you." Santana starts tenderly, "he said he already gave you a few days off so you better take them."

Brittany hadn't thought about anything like that. Not that she usually ever does anyway, but she's grateful anyway.

"Oh. Thanks." She replies.

"It's pretty obvious you boss cares a lot about you." Santana says quietly.

"Carl is awesome, and he has the funniest moustache. I don't like that he doesn't let me wear shorts all the time though. That's just rude."

Santana just laughs.

"Have you seen my phone?"

Santana nods towards her,

"Bedside table; to the left."

She reaches over, her arm is still stiff, and unable to bed due to the bandage which Brittany thinks makes her move a bit like a half robot, which is a little bit cool.

She hears Santana mutter something that sounds a lot like "stupid" before rushing over to meet her halfway and hand the phone over to her.

Their hands touch and that feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she's around Santana moves throughout her body. It feels like electric current. She likes it.

She knows she's staring again, when Santana clears her throat uncomfortably.

Brittany snaps herself out of it and looks to her phone

There's a few texts on her phone, some from her dancer friends asking if she wanted to have a party 'session' whatever that means, and one from Tina explaining she's spending a couple of days at her Rainbow dash boyfriend Jez's house. Brittany's kind of glad because it means she doesn't have to find the most truthful way she can say where she is and why without having to lie. And she is a sucky liar. She fires off a few 'can't' and one 'okay' before she sees a text from Carl.

_From Carl Reese 8:05am  
>Wanna tell me why you fainted on Santana Lopez's doorstep when you're off-duty? Playing a little dangerously there, B. <em>

Brittany stares at the screen for a few moments before sending a reply back.

_I just wanted 2 say sorry. Xx_

She didn't have to wait long for the reply. Brittany is slightly scared at how quick Carl can type.

_From Carl Reese 11:58am  
>It's ok Britt, I get it. Please take three days off. You need them and Santana can handle a few days without your services. The girl seems to like you but not everyone is gunna be like that, B. Rest up and I'll see you soon! <em>

She changes her schedule to 'SICK DAYS! :) ' in her phone for Monday through Wednesday while Santana moves around the room, and goes in and out of the walk in closet with different items. Brittany eyes her over her phone as Santana tips toes around as if she's trying to be sneaky and failing.

Brittany finds it funny and proceeds to giggle, which causes Santana to freeze in the middle of the room with comically wide eyes.

It only makes Brittany giggle harder.

"I need to change, 'cause I ain't feeling so fresh right now." She explains, " So I'm going to take a shower. If you need anything, you can either shout, ring the intercom, or you could get up and knock on the door. I don't want you doing the last one, so...just do the first two."

Santana sits down again on the bed beside her, and hesitantly takes Brittany's hands into her own.

"Are you okay?" She asks softly. It's breathless, and reflects just how Brittany feels.

When Santana looks at her like that, she forgets everything that just happened. She smiles back wide and open and replies,

"I've never felt better."

* * *

><p>My Spanish is hella rusty. I decided to split this chapter up. So next up - dinner with the parental unit! R &amp; R and all that fun stuff. Thanks again for reading!<p> 


	9. Give Me Hope and I'll Give You Signs

_Thanks again for taking the time out to read and review, everyone! Please enjoy this talky, talky chapter. Or don't._

_If anyone cares my songs of choice and I guess suggested listening for this chapter is The Helio Sequence – Can't Say No, Those Dancing Days – Run Run, and Bonobo – Days To Come._

_On with the show we go..._

* * *

><p>They're in Santana's kitchen after Brittany had started to get restless in bed. Despite Santana's protests she caved and let Brittany come with her to make herself some coffee. Not before giving Brittany a fluffy blue dressing gown and a nonchalant look of concern. Brittany couldn't help but grin.<p>

Brittany sits on a stool, at the large rectangular island situated in the middle of the room, (and gapes around at the black and red decor of the room) while Santana moves around the kitchen opening various cupboards. She finds watching Santana relaxing as she rests her head on her non-gammy arm.

The smell of fresh coffee beans permeates the air, as Santana places a large amount into those grinder things that makes Brittany's ears hurt when she turns it on.

"Congrats. There's only a few in Hollywood who legit collapse from exhaustion." Santana says not unkindly, as she potters around the kitchen. She stops to get Brittany a bottle of Gatorade from the double-door black fridge. Suddenly her mood changes and she fixes Brittany with a sober look of intent, "You've done it now, so _never_ do it _ever _again." She says seriously.

Brittany's pretty sure she just gulped.

"I promise."

"And sleep from time to time." Santana adds.

"That too."

Santana raises her hands in frustration and starts to pace from the island to the fridge. Back and forth. Brittany eyes her curiously, and slightly nervously. It reminds Brittany of a see-saw. Her elbows from childhood do not like see-saws.

"I don't know Britt, I mean - how did you even manage to get in that state? Are you even looking after yourself?"

Brittany shrugs and stares at the table top before looking back to Santana, sulking freely.

Santana sighs deeply and her eyes soften, as she stops pacing to take a seat next to Brittany,

"Look, the same thing has happened to me a few times okay? It's not a pretty thing being hospitalised for something as easy as just remembering to eat and drink. I'm not mad even though it may seem I am. I'm just – I'm worried about you is all. I don't want that for you."

Brittany feels slightly guilty that she's caused Santana to worry so much. It's not like she meant to faint. Nobody plans for that to happen. Well, unless you're that woman she saw in the jungle once who pretended to on youtube. For someone that gives very little of themselves away, Brittany is rather happy that Santana cares so much at the same time.

She keeps the happy part to herself.

"So, I get to worry about you too?" She asks quietly, "Because I do, like a lot."

Santana stiffens at her words, and looks away. Brittany's worried she's said the wrong thing. Yet again.

She finds herself sighing forlornly.

"I do remember to do those things. I work, then I dance, then I work again, then I go to rehearsals, then I dance a bit more, then I work again, then I go back home."

"And when do you eat? And drink at least a litre of water a day?"

She shrugs and plays with the Gatorade bottle Santana placed in front of her.

"When I have time. I make myself toast every morning."

"Toast is not enough, Britt, and neither is iced coffee."

She nods.

"You're an athlete..." Santana continues.

Brittany perks up at the way Santana says 'athlete'. It sounds like she's impressed.

"I am?"

"Yep." Santana nods appreciatively. Which makes Brittany blush a little. Just a little though, "and your body is in peak physical fitness, because of all that dancing you do and all the cheerleading you did back in High School. But along with that you've gotta take in more carbs and nutrients than the regular joe, like me. I know Hollywood is full of skinny bitches who would rather choke on their own weave than eat anything - but that doesn't mean you should do that either."

"This week has been hard. Maybe the occasion got to me?" Brittany replies blankly.

Santana's face flashes with sadness and is replaced with a small smile that can't quite find its way to her eyes.

Brittany watches her carefully as she takes her hands into her own (for the second time this morning – but who's really counting. This has Brittany's heart beating a mile a minute – but who's really counting there either?).

Santana looks deeply into her eyes which are filled with so many things Brittany wish she could figure out and smiles so wide and so genuine, it takes her breath away.

There's a moment, where her eyes move to Santana's full lips where she wants nothing more to move in a just kiss them. Kiss her.

"C'mon, I've lectured you long enough." Santana replies warmly. The moment is lost but the feeling is still as strong as ever. "Let's get you back in bed and you can watch a movie, or use my internet or whatever."

She's starting to feel a little gross.

"Can I, um, shower?"

* * *

><p>"Oh no, mija! Not the overalls! No one deserves that!" Miguel exclaims as he walks through the door of Santana's bedroom.<p>

The two girls are on either side of the bed, watching some gross-out comedy about two teenage guys trying to get laid as much as possible before they graduate (the jokes totally go over Brittany's head, but she had more style when trying to get laid as much as possible before graduating. She knows that much) when Miguel comes back with their food. Brittany sits up and looks over towards the man, while Santana just folds her arms and continues to stare at the TV in front of them.

"She's taller than me" Santana shrugs sulkily, "they're the only things I've got that would fit her."

"I'm sure you could have spared one of the fifty pairs of Victoria Secret sweatpants you own, Santana. I mean, seriously now..."

Brittany laughs because Miguel has yet to be informed of her fashion icon status. She's a little bit offended he can't see that the baggy, blue-denim-unfastened-on-one-side, with a rocking navy and white polka dot bodysuit she's wearing is a future fashion staple next season. She tells him anyway,

"It is okay, Marcel. I'm a flaw-free fashion icon which means I can totally rock anything easily."

He laughs as he places the bags of food onto the desk nearest to the door.

"Well you look better than Santana when she wears them! She just looks like she's about to go to work on her tractor in the garage or something stereotypical of that nature."

Santana glowers from her place next to Brittany on the bed.

"I can throw you out of this house, Papa. I can steal the food you brought and throw you out."

Miguel throws his hands up in mock surrender at her words.

"Okay, okay. Voy a dejar de. I'll stop."

Santana eyes him wearily from across the room as he takes the boxes of food out of the bags and onto small trays.

"You ruin this bedspread and I will judge you and make you pay for dry cleaning, by the way." Brittany watches as Santana rises onto her knees and enunciates each word with a swift point of her finger. It amuses Brittany as she turns to address her, "I've never met someone make a dog look like they have manners as good as the Queen's with all the food that ends up on your chin, shirt, pants etcetera, etcetera."

Miguel replies by dramatically whipping a napkin and placing it into the collar of his shirt.

They eat their sushi and miso soup together in a circle on the super king size bed.

When Miguel says "Santana has told me all about you!" with enthusiasm Santana's cheeks redden, and her eyes grow wide. She snaps her head towards her Father and eyes him so intensely Brittany thinks she might runaway. Or cry. Miguel looks back to her and places a hand on the small of her back, and notices she calms slightly. Brittany thinks she looks like a wild animal scared of humans. She calms even further when her Father keeps on asking Brittany questions. She answers them all (herself is her favourite subject after all) but that look made an impression on her.

Conversation is light and easy and mostly about Brittany (which she loves). She enjoys watching Santana and her Father banter back and forth. She can see how much they love each other in amongst it all.

When they've finished eating, Santana clears her throat and collects all the leftovers and tidies off the crumbs left on her bed spread.

"Do you guys want dessert? I can whip up some churros and hot chocolate real quick?"

Miguel pats his stomach and grins which reminds Brittany of Santa.

"That would be a very nice and kind gesture Santana which I think you should very much do!"

Santana rolls her eyes and places the boxes back in the back before heading out of the room.

"I'll be right back."

Miguel settles down next to Brittany and lies back against the headboard as they both stare at the TV muted in front of them.

"So..." he starts out nonchalantly, "Do you like your job, Brittany?"

"It's like the best job I've ever had."

He gives her a wide grin and pats her shoulder lightly.

"I'm glad about that! Though, I think this is more than just a job for you at the moment, yes?"

Brittany takes a gulp from her bottle and nods hesitantly.

"She's abrasive at times, but she does that to protect herself, since she doesn't know any better. She's learning; trying, and it even helps in a place like showbusiness. But her heart is so big, and only a few people get to see it."

Brittany watches him as he looks to be lost in memories. Her Grandpa does that a lot. She thinks he's thinking about Grandma when he gets like that. She reasons, Miguel must be thinking about things gone forever too.

"You didn't here this from me" He whispers almost knowingly, "When she first came to Los Angeles, she had no confidence. She'd lost her sprit, so I put her in acting classes to help her find her confidence again. She was just so good at it. She came alive pretending to be someone else." He smiles wistfully, his eyes are unfocused.

"She was spotted and picked up by an agent almost immediately. The first film she's a big supporting actress in is out in a few weeks, and I'm so proud of her. She's so talented."

He wipes a stray tear from his eye, which makes Brittany feel like she's intruding when she reaches over to give him a tissue from the box on Santana's bedside. He smiles at her in thanks before continuing on,

"I missed out on seeing her grow up, and I wish more than anything I could have been there to help her through it. Her life has not been easy, and we both lost each other for many years, but we're back together now and we're healing."

His smile is so hopeful and wide that Brittany finds herself smiling along with him.

"You're a special one, Brittany. I'm glad I've gotten to meet you."

They only talk sparingly then, mostly about how awesome Brittany is (which she agrees with) and about the episode of Raising Hope they're currently watching (which Brittany has decided she loves).

It's when Santana walks back into the room, holding a tray full of long strips of sugared crispy, doughy, goodness and hot dipping chocolate, that Brittany thinks she's only really getting to see just the smallest part of who Santana is. She wants to know more about her, because she's managed to become her most favourite person in such a short space of time.

She may be the most interesting person she's ever met. And sometimes, Brittany thinks she may be the saddest person she's ever met too. All she wants to do is be with her any way she'll let her be. Not that she'll ever tell her. She remembers her place after all.

"I swear, if you get hot chocolate on my bed spread I am never taking you out for dinner, or actually making you dinner, ever again!"

They don't respond, but instead look over at the girl with the tray, and her hair tied back in a messy ponytail with her black skinny jeans and oversized Mickey Mouse sweater.

Santana fidgets under both their gazes as she stands in the doorway.

"What?"

Miguel chuckles warmly and shakes his head, and beckons his daughter over.

"Get those over here, mija! You've never had churros if you haven't had my Santana's!"

* * *

><p>"Can I ask you a question?"<p>

It's late in the evening now, and Miguel all but forces (in a nice way, since he's a doctor and all) Brittany to stay the night. She's not complaining and if she's honest with herself, there's no place she'd rather be but here.

They sit in Santana's living room, Miguel retiring to his 'weekend room' for the night, he left them alone after threatening Santana with showing baby pictures, and she threatened back by withholding food.

The living room is just as nice as the rest of the house. The high ceilings, the neutral walls, the big chrome fireplace with a fluffy white rug in front of it, the 80 inch HDTV with a full entertainment system that booms around the room, and the biggest, most plushest black leather couch she's ever sat on makes Brittany feel like she's a rapper. It's so cool and pimped out. She's seen houses like this on Cribs before, and now she's gotten to sleep in one. She can tick that off her mental list of life goals now.

Santana shrugs as she takes a sip from her mug of hot coco sitting on the opposite end of the couch while they just finished watching a fairytale TV show that Brittany only half watched.

"Sure." She replies absently as she turns off the TV, and flicks the remote to play some music Brittany has never heard of from the dock just below the TV.

Brittany fiddles with the base of her mug with sheep on as she thinks about how to ask about yesterday.

"About yesterday..."

"Oh. That." Santana replies bitterly. Her face is the mask of stoicism it usually is as she stares towards the television.

"It was just a bit of damage control." She continues flippantly, "I've never had to do it before, but I fucking hated it."

Her eyes darken, and Brittany looks at her patiently, happy to wait until Santana's ready to talk to her.

"I'm being blackmailed."

"Are you into witchcraft?" She whispers conspiratorially. Brittany stops herself from starting to ramble (now is not the times) and forces herself to take a drink from the still too hot mug of coco in her hands. It burns her mouth and tries her hardest to not spit it back into the cup.

Santana bows her head bashfully, her cheeks taking on a tinge of pink; her smile is small. Delicate; like she's trying to hide her reaction from her.

Brittany thinks it's the cutest anyone has ever looked before. And she likes to look into the mirror often.

"No, I'm not into witchcraft." Santana replies. A chuckle she is unable to repress bubbles out.

"I'm..." She hesitates. She looks into her mug, swirling the remaining contents as she tries to find the right words. "I'm not a good person, Britt."

Brittany is silent and still as she quietly urges Santana to continue.

"I- I haven't been doing this very long, and I'm on the way to even 'bigger things' apparently" her words are emphasized by a perfectly executed roll of the eyes, and air quotes. She takes a moment to sober up, back to the pensive and serious nature of her words shrouding the room with a heavy atmosphere "I didn't get here just through hard work and pure luck."

Santana fixes her dark gaze towards her as she continues,

"Hollywood is the place where old truths disappear, Britt. Everybody wants to be someone. Someone else; someone other than who they really are. There are so many lies stacked on top of each other, and they build up. It looks so glamorous, but you forget yourself so easily if they let you..."

As she trails off her eyes become faraway and unfocused. She looks so wrapped up in something Brittany wished she knew how to make better.

So she tells her a truth.

"I think you're a good person." She lets out quietly.

Santana eyes her carefully. The low light from the floor lamp in the far corner of the room catches her eyes, and they shine so brightly, that Brittany thinks there are tears reflecting back at her.

Santana quickly looks away and snorts. She wears a sneer before moving from her seat to turn the music off coming from the dock on the entertainment system.

"Well, you shouldn't think that, because I'm really not."

It shocks Brittany at how sincere Santana is when her dark gaze penetrates hers so intensely. It's full of anger and hate, and such regret that Brittany just wants to hug her more than ever.

So she does. It's awkward at first, her arm aches and doesn't bend all the way, and Santana's body stays rigid at first but she settles, and slowly she wraps her arms around Brittany.

She's not sure how long they stay like that. For her, time is nothing but the intake of their breaths syncing together, because she could stay like this for a pretty damn long time. She rests her head in the crook of Santana's neck, and breathes so deeply that all she's filled with is just the smell of her.

Her eyes start to tire and she could fall asleep right where she is, surrounded by the warmth of Santana.

"You should sleep." Santana whispers.

"Yeah." Brittany sighs out blissfully. "Okay."

Santana pulls Brittany from the leather couch, and guides the both of them slowly and quietly up the stairs. Back to the cloud known as Santana's awesome bed.

She watches Brittany from the doorway as she cleans her teeth, only leaving when Brittany starts to strip to the shirt and sweatpants she came in. She changes the bandage on her arm with tender touches and a gentle hand. She guides her to the bed with a hand on the small of her back and tucks Brittany in, pulling the covers up to her chest.

Brittany settles in with a serene smile and her eyes close as soon as her head touches the pillow. She hears footsteps moving away from her, the fight to open her eyes is too hard, too difficult.

"Stay." Her words are slurred and sluggish; her mind drifting off to sleep so very quickly.

She yawns and she's sure she hears Santana sigh audibly.

"What's mine is yours tonight, Britt but I can't stay with you."

She nods, and settles deeper into the pillows as sleep starts to catch her quickly. It's not until she feels the press of soft lips on her forehead that she falls into slumber the quickest she has in a long time.

_Dulces sueños, mi amor..._

* * *

><p><em>They're getting somewhere...<em>

_In case I'm not able to update before Christmas, I just want to say I hope you all have a Merry Christmas, or a Happy Hanukkah! Thanks again for reading. _


	10. The Little Things

_Well, I hope everyone enjoyed the holidays! I ate, I drank, I partied, and I hope some have you got to do exactly the same!_

_Thanks again for the reviews; they really spur this sad sap on._

_So again, I've decided to split the chapters up. Consider this an interlude of sorts. I spent way longer than I wanted to, editing and chopping and changing it all around, to the point where I didn't think I would post it. But here it is anyway. These updates are starting to get long, yo!_

_This part was written primarily on caffeine and some gold ol' shoegaze music in the likes of My Bloody Valentine and Chapterhouse._

* * *

><p>It's been two weeks since Brittany had her 'episode' and since then she's decided - Santana Lopez is completely and utterly awesome, and her friend, and beautiful and smart and so sweet and nice that it makes her chest want to burst every time she thinks about her and all the sweet little things she does.<p>

She could ramble on forever about all the attributes Santana has that she adored, but all she can do is sigh dreamily when the radio plays a song that reminds her of Santana, or when she sees a picture of Santana in magazines, or when she watches her leave the car to go to work or to go home. She's been in the magazines more than ever the past fortnight, and for all kinds of reasons (She cuts out each article Santana's in that she comes across and sticks them in an empty notebook she has. Well it was Tina's, but she's not planning on telling her that).

And as she sits in the nicest hotel room she's ever been in, in the most expensive dress she'll probably ever wear waiting for Santana - all she can think is that she may be a little in love with Santana.

And she's a just little okay with that.

* * *

><p>She awakes in Santana's bed to the sound of a knock on the door and the deep tones of someone humming a pleasant tune.<p>

She blinks her eyes rapidly before looking forward to see Miguel in a grey suit with a blue silk tie hanging around his shoulders.

"Good morning Brittany!" He enthuses as he opens the curtains and she stretches languidly.

She yawns in greeting and rises into a sitting position as Miguel sits at the bottom of the bed tying up his tie with a smile on his face.

"Santana had to go to work, but she kept me under strict orders to get you breakfast and take you home before I go back to work and back to my own apartment downtown."

He catches her half-asleep eyes and smiles widely at her before patting her legs and says,

"I think pancakes are in order!"

He stands, and smooths down his expensive looking grey suit jacket and looks into the mirror on the closet door. He smooths his hair back with his hands as it falls in short waves around his face.

"Oh, and she left you a note" He nods towards the bedside table closest to her with a knowing grin Brittany doesn't get what for.

She follows his eyes and sees a folded piece of paper next to a glass of water that wasn't there when she fell into bed the night before.

_Hey B, _

_Sorry I can't be there for you waking up, what with me filming a movie and all, but I've put my Dad under strict orders to get you fed and watered before he takes you home. If he does anything messy let me know cuz I'll have to tear him a new one! _

_I've left some more clothes for you in my en-suite so take them. What's mine is yours._

_Oh and don't worry about the truck, I've taken care of it! It's safe and sound back at yours. The key's are in your mailbox. :-)_

_Hope you're feeling better Britt Britt! Let me know you've gotten home okay. _

_S x_

Brittany thinks she may have an emotional attachment to that note, and when she goes into the bathroom to shower and change, she finds herself kissing the note before folding it up and placing it delicately into her sweatpants pocket.

* * *

><p>She opens the door to her empty apartment and sees Lord Tubbington watching her from the couch with an unimpressed gaze.<p>

She looks around the room and can't help feel everything is different. There was a time just even a few weeks ago, Tina would be flitting around the apartment with a feather duster, ranting at her about something she hadn't done, or how much she hated all the basic bitches who thought they were better than her in her classes (they kind of were. A little bit).

It's empty now, but it's become her home. It's pristine and there's nothing out of place, but she sees the pictures of friends and family of her own and also Tina's.

There were none in Santana's house.

It's empty and pristine, and yet it feels more of a home than Santana's house. It was desolate and lonely. It wasn't a placed lived in. Home was wherever she was.

She slumps down onto the couch and pets Lord Tubbington into acquiescence and turns on the TV, and presses play on whatever DVD was left in the player. She grabs her phone from out of her pocket and fires off a simple '_I'm home'_ to Santana and curls into the cushions with Lord Tubbington by her side, and Bill and 'Sookeh' on the TV.

It's not until a couple of hours later that she's waking up from a nap that she gets a reply text from Santana.

_From Santana Lopez! 2:34PM  
>I'm glad, I hope you're relaxing. Expect a couple of knocks at your door btw. Like say nowish. ;-) <em>

Brittany frowns in confusions as she re-reads the text.

_Knock knock knock_

Brittany goes to open the door, and finds a dark shaggy haired boy with a brown paper bag in his hands.

"Delivery for Brittany S Pierce bought and paid for?" He asks with a smile and a tip of his red baseball cap.

Brittany nods dumbly as he holds the bag out for her to take.

The boy bids her goodbye and Brittany walks back into the room to see what's been delivered.

It's buffalo wings, French fries and a Caesar salad with peach iced tea. It's her favourite meal. She's shocked and awed Santana managed to not only know where she lives but also that she managed to get her favourite meal right too.

She bounces excitedly over to her phone (Lord Tubbington throws her another unimpressed look) and sends Santana a text,

_Did you just order me my favourite meal? How did you even know where I live btw? THANK YOU. Xoxo_

_From Santana Lopez! 2:38PM  
>I have my ways :-) enjoy the food Britt. X<em>

Brittany tucks into the food and finds her thoughts consumed by how amazing Santana Lopez is.

* * *

><p>She's into her second day of 'relaxing' when she decided that she's more than a little bored. She's watched all of Tina's True Blood season one box set and needs something else to occupy her.<p>

It is early evening when the sun begins to set, Brittany slouches in front of the TV, deciding to watch some showbiz gossip show (just to see if she can see Santana), while empty plates of food are littered across the coffee table. There's a knock at the door and she rolls herself off the couch to answer it.

This time she answers there's a blonde girl with a bouquet of flowers in her hand and a smile on her face.

"Miss Pierce?" The girl enquires pleasantly.

"Um, yes?" She replies hesitantly as she eyes the girl curiously in front of her.

The girl holds out a large bouquet of flowers in a white vase.

"Get well soon, Miss Pierce!"

Brittany takes the bouquet and shuts the door behind her. It's filled with purples and whites of beautiful flowers Brittany has no idea the names of. Except one, the single white rose in the middle of the bouquet.

She brings the bouquet up to her nose and takes a deep breath of the scent that permeates the air around them.

_The drive to and from work is not the same without you, Britt Britt. I hope you're feeling better.  
>Espero que te pongas bien pronto,<br>S x_

Brittany takes the note and places it in her pocket. She's decided she's going to put it in her scrap book.

* * *

><p>It's Wednesday afternoon when there's another knock at the door. This time, there's a middle-aged man holding a large box of chocolates. She takes the note held by the lapels of ribbon around the box and holds it up to read.<p>

_Mañana será otro día, mi bella  
>I'll see you tomorrow!<br>S x _

Brittany grins at the note and holds it close to her chest. She doesn't understand a word of Spanish but 'Hola' but she likes it. Tina chooses just then to come back home. As she barges in through the door, Brittany places the note in her pocket.

"Hey, Brittany." Tina says while she puts her bag down next to the couch. She stops her movements when she notices the beautiful bouquet on the coffee table, and the box of chocolates in Brittany's hands.

"Ooh who's trying to get with you Britt? Chocolates and flowers? Somebody's pulling out all the stops!"

"They're 'get well soon' flowers." Replies back blankly, "To get well soon."

Tina moves away from Brittany in horror.

"You're sick?" She exclaims in horror, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you were with Jez the magical pony and I'm not sick. Not really."

Brittany holds Tina with an unimpressed gaze (Lord Tubbington has taught her well) and shrugs,

"I got three days off work. So I'm relaxing."

"And you received flowers and chocolates for relaxing?" Tina replies back dubiously. Eying the chocolate's in Brittany's hand.

Brittany's eyes follow Tina's and opens the box to offer her a chocolate.

"I guess so." She shrugs back.

Tina grins, taking a chocolate from the box and shoves the square piece into her mouth. She chews nosily. Grossly.

"Lucky bitch."

Tina plops herself down on the couch and flicks the TV onto the news, before pulling up The Real Housewives of Atlanta on the DVR.

"By the way, remind me to let you take the truck more often."

"Why?"

"Well, the new tires and general cleanliness are making her look a whole lot prettier. Baby got back."

* * *

><p>"Morning Santana!" Brittany says exuberantly, bouncing on the spot in excitement.<p>

Santana laughs and ducks her head as she walks towards the car. She's back to the figure hugging business dresses (black this time with a white belt on the waist) and oversized purses (a navy blue Prada) again.

"Hey Britt. Feeling better?"

"I feel great!" She replies back happily, "Thank you for the flowers, and the chocolate. They made the days much better!"

Brittany's grin gets even wider when Santana's cheeks start to redden.

"It was nothing." Santana shrugs nonchalantly, "Gotta keep my favourite chauffeur sweet, right?"

Brittany giggles and opens the passenger door for Santana to get in, but she looks back to see Santana fiddling with something in her bag.

"So I, um, made you something..." Santana finds her shoes interesting as Brittany looks at the tin-foil wrapped cylindrical shape in her hand.

Brittany carefully takes the package from her hands, and unwraps the foil just as carefully.

"It a-um- well it's a breakfast burrito. I thought I'd make you one since it's your first day back and all..."

Brittany stares at the item in her hand, and then looks back towards the girl, who is still staring at the tops of her shoes, with pink cheeks and a shy demeanour. She stops to think that maybe the things she feels for Santana are what the movies always go on about. She makes her chest ache with happiness that she can't help but reach down and peck her on the cheek as a thank you.

Santana's reaction of ducking her head with her wide eyes and pink cheeks, and adorably jumping into the car makes it all the more worth it.

The breakfast burritos aren't just a onetime thing. They end up being just another 'thing' for them to share together. And my are they tasty.

* * *

><p>"So, I've got an idea I thought I'd share with you." Santana says quietly on the drive back from set. She's unusually talkative to Brittany this evening. She stares out the window, while all the cars on the highway get to move but the lane they're situated in.<p>

Brittany taps out a beat on the wheel to the song that plays on the radio at a low volume.

"Okay." Brittany watches Santana carefully in the rear-view mirror.

She watches as Santana scratches her neck in hesitation.

"Do you - I mean, do you wanna maybe have dinner with me whenever I finish at a reasonable time?" She asks just as quietly as before, clasping her hands together in front of her on her lap, "You can maybe tell me about your day and I can buy you food in return. It could be, ya know, maybe, a kinda cool idea."

Brittany watches her as her face changes from nervous to wistful as she continues to stare out the window.

"I think that is a great idea." Brittany grins wide and turns round to look directly at Santana, "And maybe you could even tell me about your day too."

* * *

><p>She was able to take a look at the paparazzi photographs of Santana from that weekend she's come to love and dislike at the same time. She's also come to know via the gossip mags that Santana is a 'feisty latina maneater with talent far beyond her years', and has a new boyfriend in Tyler Carson - the heart throb who makes all the panties drop with his soulful grey blue eyes and dark hair, and the man who was standing in the doorway of that house she picked Santana up from. Brittany thinks he's got a serious case of gay face.<p>

Brittany never mentions it to Santana and vice versa. She doesn't feel the need to.

It turns out that gay face of his is even more noticeable in person. So is his general gayness, as he walks into the restaurant herself and Santana are eating at, on that particular evening.

It's the second night they've done this when Santana has an unreadable look on her face warning of her 'friend' coming to meet them as Brittany gives the keys of Mulsanne over to the valet. Brittany shrugged in response. She wanted to know more about the people in Santana's life so it was totally cool with her.

They haven't been sat in the far corner booth of an exclusive and intimate bistro for long, when the handsome man with hair styled up with copious amounts of hair product walks over towards them.

Santana groans as she catches his eye. His face breaks out into a toothy grin with dimples that Brittany finds just a little bit knee-weakening.

"There's my little Sultana bee bee!" He exclaims just a little on the flamboyant side as he slides up to the booth in which they're situated at. His voice is tinged with a Southern accent.

Brittany notices all the females in the establishment have their mouths open as he walks past them in his black blazer and red denim skinny jeans.

"Kiss me honey so everyone can tweet about how cute we are!"

Santana groans in disgust and stands up to meet his puckered lips.

"Anyone ever tell you that you're kind of a famewhore?" Santana arches her perfectly shaped brow towards the tall man, as he pulls her closer to wrap his arms around her, and then kisses her on the lips.

Brittany watches as Santana grimaces for a fleeting moment and quietly sits back down. The moment has Brittany's stomach in knots.

"Bitch, please! Like I'm any worse than those nasty ass Kardashian clones. If there's another one announced next week with another reality show - I may have to kill myself."

He slides in next to Santana and kisses her cheek which Santana wipes at her cheek in disgust. He grins at her response.

Santana looks over at Brittany with a small smile before giving out introductions,

"Brittany this is Tyler, Tyler this is Brittany."

Brittany puts out her hand in greeting and smiles.

"Well hello Brittany, Santana has told me all about you." He eyes her with a sexy smirk as he kisses her hand.

Santana rolls her eyes and rests her head on her hand while she side-eyes Tyler's antics.

"So honey - how was your day?"

"Well, I'm pretty sure I'm gunna get like serious contender worthy buzz come award season next year, the way some of those bitches on set go on. So yeah, I was feeling pretty on top of my shit today. And then you decided to come up all in my grill with your drama and your famewhore yoda-esque ways to ruin my eating time with Britts here. And you know how much I like my eats." Tyler guffaws as he slides down into the booth and perches his feet next to where Brittany is sitting. His brown brogues are shining, and polished.

He takes the menu Santana had finished looking at and surveys over it quickly before slapping it down as the waitress comes to take their order.

Brittany watches as Tyler and Santana interact almost like an old married couple, as he fusses over her, and she just shrinks into herself. They kind of look together like all those magazines say they are but at the same time, her gaydar is seriously pinging off the scales.

She has to ask.

"So are you two, like, together or something?"

Santana and Tyler look at each other before bursting into hysterical laughter. Brittany is confused.

Brittany waits patiently for their laughter to subside. Which she does, for like, five minutes.

"You know when you had to do that bullshit last weekend?" Santana replies, her tone quickly sobers up, "Well this is another part of it. We're keeping up appearances. So no we're not."

Brittany tilts her head in confusion. Tyler gives her a wan smile and pats her hand.

"We're both gay, honey." He says slowly, as watches Brittany for a reaction she doesn't have. He nudges Santana subtlety before he continues on, "I think we hide it rather well if I do say so myself. His voice is tinged with sarcasm as he wraps his arm around her yet again, which causes Santana to stiffen. Brittany wonders if anyone else notices just how uncomfortable Santana gets at the thought being touched. "Except, when Santana and I fuck the wrong people and they try to out us before our careers have even begun" he says softly, "But we all make mistakes." Plastering a sickly sweet smile on his face and whipping a hand through the back of his hair in a faux-effeminate manner.

Santana looks like she's just going to vomit.

Brittany tries to catch Santana's eyes to no avail. She looks down into her lap, almost ashamed which makes Brittany want to give her a hug.

"I've known 'Tana since we had our first acting class together almost three years ago." Tyler explains further, "Poor bitch didn't know what hit her." He laughs wistfully as he recalls the moment, "She called me a strung out lady face with more blush than Coco the Clown, and I felt up her immaculate fake tits - it was love at first sight." He sighs fondly at the memory and elbows Santana in the ribs, "I grew on her like a fungus and now we're repped by the same people and we're like sexually incompatible life partners or something progressive like that. She's gunna be my baby momma so we can have beautiful biracial-Latina babies and make a dynasty that the Baldwin clan will be envious of!"

Brittany laughs and Tyler's eyes sparkle in mischief.

Santana's phone starts to ring, and she excuses herself just as their food is delivered.

"We're always busy and don't get to see each other often," Tyler continues on once Santana has left to talk on her phone in hushed tones, "but I've decided that we're like besties for life and she's got no choice in the matter. We got each other's back despite how Santana likes to pretend she doesn't and she can be meaner than Michael Bay on a good day at times, but she's the most loyal person I know."

Santana comes back soon after with her mask of stoicism well applied, and also a fresh cover of eyeliner and red lipstick.

"Better get your chapstick on Titty Caca, the paps are a comin'."

Brittany watches Santana sit back down into the booth and they eat their meal in relative silence.

It's not until Tyler rambles on about the ineptitude of Ted Casablanca that she finds herself speaking without thinking.

"Why do you guys have to hide your awesomeness? I just find that upsetting."

She watches as both of them stare at the table before choosing their words carefully.

"It's Hollywood for ya," Santana mutters "The gays are everywhere, but it's still homophobic as those fucking hick towns we escaped from." Santana's face darkens, "You come out, and you're pretty much ruined. I was hoping I wouldn't have to do all this bearding shit. The press are already calling me out on all types of things related to my skin colour, being Latina and being a man-eating 'slut'. Being gay is just another thing they can take shots at. I'm not willing to go there just yet."

The atmosphere between the three of them is heavy, and thick with the severity of Santana's words. It makes Brittany a little sad that she can't tell exactly how Santana feels, nor will she ever understand that either. It's the first time Santana has looked at her with fear written all over her face. And when she looks at Tyler, she sees it in his, too.

"I know what I am, and I know who you are too." Brittany sees nothing but Santana, "That's all that matters to me."

Brittany giggles when Tyler raises his glass of red wine in agreement and takes a gulp of the drink, which causes some of the red liquid to dribble down his chin.

Santana just stares forlornly at her half empty plate.

* * *

><p>They've been doing this for a week now, and they're sitting in Brittany's favourite Italian restaurant, Angelos.<p>

Santana asks her about her day like she always does, Brittany rambles on more than she needs too, like she always does around Santana, and they eat in a comfortable silence that makes Brittany feel content and warm.

Except this time, Santana is conversing during.

"So I've got a film premier next Monday night..." Santana trails off as she watches Brittany eat her spaghetti carbonara nosily; slurping the spaghetti loudly, getting cream all over face and nose.

Santana hands her napkin over to her with a smile on her face.

"You do?" Brittany replies with her mouth half full. Her excitement is palpable, and she tries her hardest not to spit out her food into the napkin.

"Yep," She nods, taking a sip from the straw in her large coke glass, "I have to be holed up in a classy as hell hotel suite and do a shit load of press during the day. So you get to have the day off, and I'm not filming that day, 'cause I'm being driven by my agent's car company and not yours."

"Oh. Yeah." Brittany replies as she puts down her fork and spoon. She wondered why her schedule was empty for Monday.

Santana clears her throat,

"...My Dad can't come because he can't get off work. So, I've got a spare pass." Brittany watches Santana's eyes flash with melancholy before her face is nonchalant once again. "So, I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come along? I mean – not to do all the boring as shit press stuff, but like the getting ready thing and coming along to the premier with me. You could network and there's gunna be some pretty important people there who I think would be pretty interested in you." Santana shifts in her chair, beginning to ramble but unable to stop, "We could go to dinner or maybe a few bars after if you wanted? I mean, it's totally cool if you don't want to. Tyler is gunna be there too. He'd look after you."

Brittany stares back at Santana with wide eyes.

Santana gets in the car every morning with a breakfast burrito she made just for her, or she gets her to stop to get dinner together when she finishes on set at a reasonable hour. She asks how her day has been, and now she's asked her to be part of something her Dad seemed to be so proud of. Things are happening for her that Brittany so far can only dream of and it makes her happy. Her heart swells and drums in her ears at the fact Santana freaking awesome Lopez has asked her to attend a premier of not only a movie, but one of her own.

Brittany smiles so wide her eyes start to tear up.

"I would love to."

* * *

><p><em>Yes, I made an Absolutely Fabulous reference. Next up - they've got a Premier to go to! R and R and all that fun stuff.<em>

_Keep on keeping on folks, and I hope the last days of 2011 are good ones._


	11. Make It Good Part One

_Hello dear readers! I hope the New Year has been treating you well. This chapter should have been up a lot earlier but I got distracted by some video games Santa was kind enough to give me for Christmas, and then I went and made some last minute major life decisions (as you do) and I had to put them first instead of updating I'm sorry to say. I hope this chapter and the next are worth it!_

_Thanks for continuing to stick it out, and to all the new readers - thanks for reading too! I hope it's worth it in the end._

_I'm keeping at it. Some of the songs on repeat this chapter and the next were Justin Timberlake – Lovestoned/I Think She Knows (the interlude in particular. Flaw. Less) and Mute Math – Typical and After We Have Left Our Homes, Natalie Imbruglia - Beauty On The Fire. _

_And on with the show we go..._

* * *

><p>She's laughed, she's cried, she's people watched, taken photographs that she's legally obligated not to post on Facebook, and she's drank champagne she is pretty sure costs more than her rent. Her royal blue dress fits like a glove. Her movements betray her; jerky and lacking the natural grace she possesses as she pushes past the men with cameras blocking her path, attempting to get an image of the people she's with. She feels slightly scared at the shouts and demands of people she doesn't know.<p>

The flashing lights come from everywhere. She can't see in front on her face, but as she feels a soft hand pull her hand into their own and tangles their fingers together as they guide her back to the safety of the car - she feels like she's found the person she's supposed to come home to.

She just knows.

And she can keep a secret. Just for now.

* * *

><p>"So kid, guess who's team rang me up all important like to get you time off from filing duty?"<p>

"Ke$ha's?"

"Funny kid." Carl eyes her over his reading glasses with an unimpressed look before walking round the space of his desk and straightens up his suit, "But you can have time off to go swan yourself with the Hollywood elite. Or trash, however you wanna see it." He laughs to himself as he swots her with his rolled up newspaper.

"Be good. And don't talk to strangers. Most importantly, do NOT speak unless spoken to. You never know who you're talkin' to in Hollywierd. Or who's listenin'."

She nods blankly and bites her nails in worry.

He chuckles softly,

"It's kinda cute."

"What is?"

"How Santana Lopez has befriended the adorable, blonde chauffeur who drives her to work. Who'd have thought it?"

Her eyes become unfocused and she begins to wonder just how obvious she's being. Her mind quickly moves onto Santana and what she'll wear to the premier or what she'll be like in the film. Will she be bad? What if she is and Brittany has to lie to make her happy. She feels bad for even thinking that.

Carl clicks his fingers in front of her face, and her attention snaps back to his face. His eyes are narrowed in amusement. Realization hits Brittany,

"Wait...you think I'm adorable? I knew it! Of course I am - I am me."

"Don't push your luck, kid."

* * *

><p>"So what exactly do I wear to these things?" She asks with uncertainty creeping into her tone. She knows anything she wears will look good, but she wants to make sure Santana likes what she's wearing. She wants to make a good impression after all.<p>

There's movement on the other side on the line, and music loud enough for Brittany to pick up. She wonders if she's at home or elsewhere, which makes Brittany slightly worried that she'll get into trouble again. She doesn't say her worries out loud.

"_What size are you?" _Santana asks.

"Well, I'm not midget sized, but I'm not giant sized either. I'm middle sized."

"_No Britt,"_ Santana laughs softly on the other size of the phone, _"What dress size are you?"_

"Oh. I'm a size four."

"_And your shoe size?" _

"Um. Eight."

"Don't worry about it; I'll take care of it. I gotta stylist who'll hook you up for these things. All you need to do is be ready for the car to pick you up at seven AM Monday morning. Oh, and bring your business cards with you. And overnight bag or something. I'm staying at the hotel where the junket is held. The Four Seasons. So you can too - I mean, if you want that is."

Brittany goes past that hotel every time she goes to the garage. She knows luxury when she sees it. Plus, the idea of spending the whole day and night with Santana in any manner appeals to her on so many levels.

"I want to." She says softly.

The music in the background stops, and Brittany can hear the smile in Santana's voice,

"I'm looking forward to it."

* * *

><p>She sits on an oversized grey fabric sofa in front of the large TV watching YouTube videos on Santana's iPad when the door to the hotel room swings open. Its lunchtime and she's spent most of the morning down at the spa getting all sorts of treatments she's never had the luxury of doing so. Santana said it was all paid for by the studio her film is with so to take the luxuries offered.<p>

So she did.

At this point she's so relaxed she's practically comatose.

She's getting to spend lunch time with Santana as she promised when Santana greeted her in the car that morning. Her voice was husky with the edges of sleep and hair in a messy bun.

She flounces through the door - no longer half asleep but messy bun is more refined and the black mini dress smarter than the sweats - with an entourage of people trailing behind her speaking miles a minute about things Brittany doesn't understand (nor does Santana either judging by the look of sheer exasperation on her face).

It's not until her eyes catch Brittany's that she takes a deep breath, and closes her eyes for a fleeting moment before she turns round and shuts all of them up with a scathing, "Get the fuck out! All of you! I'm eating lunch and then you can have me all over again in forty five minutes." That has them silenced and running for the door in no time.

Brittany can't help but look up at her adoringly.

Santana catches her eyes and smiles one of her widest and brightest yet.

"So, are you enjoying the spa perks?" Santana asks as she picks up a fry from her plate.

"My nails look pretty." Brittany replies, and surveys her purple polished nails before smiling widely over to Santana.

Santana's eyes are soft and inviting which Brittany could look at forever.

"They really do."

"So, are you enjoying all that junk?" Brittany asks inquisitively pushing penne pasta around her plate absently.

Santana looks thoughtful for a moment before fixing her intense gaze towards her,

"It's different when you're being interviewed alone. Last one I did it was three of us holed up together. We were delirious in the end but it was pretty amusing. Having to say the same shit and answering the same shit over and over again can get real old when you're doing it alone."

Brittany watches as Santana's face flashed with many different emotions, excitement, apprehension, anger and even sadness before she went back to eating her burger and fries. It's times like this she wonders if Santana even wants any of this at all.

She doesn't need to dwell on it for long before Santana flashes her with a shy smile and dips her head back to her food,

"I'm enjoying my lunch a lot more."

When the clock strikes 1:45pm Santana sighs irritably and looks almost comically miserable when the mass of people that first followed Santana into the room burst back into the room just as nosily and pull her back out in the hallway without so much as a glance back into the room.

Santana's voice manages to carry down the hallway as people still file out of the room.

"Why don't you just hit me with the shovel you apply my make-up with instead of applying it in ways a Chola would be proud of? 'Ayyy where's my Sharpie? I needs ta reapply my eyebrows!'"

Brittany can't help but giggle to herself.

* * *

><p>"Sup, Trouble." Santana smiles thinly as she sees Tyler leading Brittany by a well moisturised hand into the darkened hotel room half full of people with blackberry's and suits. He bypasses the cameras and large light stands to envelop Santana in a warm hug (and a chaste kiss on the lips).<p>

"Why hasn't Brittany been shown how all this goes on, my little Sultana Bee bee?" He coos as he pulls back to look at Santana but keeps his hands on her back.

Brittany watches as some of the people in the room watch their display. Half of them enamoured by their affection, the other half almost bored and cynical rolling their eyes as they check their phones.

"Because there's only so much you can show before it gets boring. You can stay if you want Britt."

They stay long enough for the attractive brunette reporter from E! News to notice Tyler (and promptly squee in delight). The woman - who was dressed in a violet low cut top (most of the eyes in the room are looking just that little bit further south than they should), started to veer away from the topic of the movie and onto Santana's personal life.

It's then she gets her first glance of Gary Leonard since he first turned up in Carl's office with his intimidating ways. His hair is slicked back and the sleeves of his white shirt are rolled up to his elbows; tucked into his sand coloured pants.

She presses herself into the shadows as she watches him move closer to the reporter and speaks ever so smoothly to get her to change topics. He's intimidating but stays calm. The reporter changes topic as soon as Gary warns her and Tyler leads her back out of the cramped hotel room and back down the hallway, back into the room.

"Do you wanna get ready?"

"Okay."

* * *

><p>Her make-up and hair is done, and Tyler is napping on the couch in only his white vest and pink and yellow polka dot Y-front briefs waiting to be clothed. She listens to her iPod while watching Santana getting ready in the bedroom area.<p>

Santana is arguing about eye-shadow colour when there's a knock at the door Brittany doesn't hear.

A portly, flamboyant, man with purple highlights in his thinning dark hair walks through the door with a rail of clothes rolling in next to him. His orange suit is garish and almost painful to look at directly.

"Um. Yes?" Brittany replies.

"Oh. My. God. Brittany S. Pierce?" Screeches through Brittany's music, causing her to jump and pull her earphones out.

"I'm Marcus! Marcus Espinosa! I'm a stylist, genius, and etcetera; just add nausea, all that fun stuff. Blah, blah blah."

He stands back and places a hand on his check as he looks towards her in awe.

"I can't believe it! Why didn't you tell me you knew the Brittany S Pierce, 'Tana?"

Santana groans with her eyes closed as she waits for the make-up artist to apply eye-shadow.

"Like I'd wanna willingly inflict _you _of all people onto her."

"Seriously, you are a genius, darling!" He continues, ignoring Santana's words. His emphasis on 'genius' causes an involuntary shiver down her spine, "I mean look at you! A body to die for and style flowing out of your ears! I've never seen someone wear a vest and shorts so damn good! And my God - what an ass!"

He interlinks their arms and pulls her over to the rack of clothes by the door and starts pulling dresses from the rack to put up in front of her.

"The ensemble's I have for you! So many choices so little time"

She eyes the clothes warily as he presses each one up against her body, finding ways to touch her body. Pinching and squeezing in ways that aren't unfamiliar.

"You'd be perfect for a few things I'm working on in the next few months. Ever thought of modelling, Miss Pierce?"

Brittany feels suddenly shy as all the eyes in the room stop what they're doing to look towards her. She knows she's awesome and talented and better than most people, but some of the way the people are looking at her – like the vultures from The Jungle Book - makes her feel uneasy.

"You brought those business cards of yours right?" Santana asks Brittany in encouragement. She nods in confirmation. "Give him one."

Santana smiles encouragingly over to her from the vanity unit like she's the only person in the room. It makes her feel warm and bashful and she stuffs her hands in her short pockets.

She's starting think that whole becoming a cultural icon thing is not as important as the girl getting attacked by scary hair and make-up people is.

* * *

><p>"I feel like Cinderella."<p>

She moves her hands down the sides of the dress she stares at her reflection. She admires the way the dress hugs her figure in all the right ways. She looks even hotter than usual which causes her to smile widely at her reflection.

They're alone in a room not unlike the one she's spent the day in as they wait for the car to arrive to take them to the premier. Santana laughs softly and watches her in the full length mirror. Brittany thinks she looks almost famished. No one has ever looked at her the way Santana does sometimes. It's full of appreciation and sadness - and something else Brittany can't ever put her finger on - all rolled into one. She welcomes it, but it scares her all the same.

Santana clears her throat and watches her movements in the mirror as she attempts to clasp her diamond earrings into her ears.

"It kind of works that way too. Except the glass slippers are leather and the carriages are steel cars and non-pumpkin like. The dresses don't turn in to rags either – well unless you ruin them - they just have to be returned at noon the next day."

Brittany watches Santana from the bed as she moves absently around the room fiddling with her earrings and the back of her hair. She settled on black and gold eye shadow which makes her eyes looks ever more inviting.

"You're so beautiful." She whispers softly. Taken in by just the sight of her she can't help herself.

Santana looks taken aback as Brittany slaps her hand to her mouth. She didn't mean to blurt it out, and judging from the slack-jawed expression Santana didn't either. But as she takes in Santana's gold and black beaded pencil dress with platform stilettos to match, and her hair falling around her face in waves, she's pretty sure she's never seen anyone or anything more beautiful.

Brittany watches with her lip between her teeth as Santana comes to sit down next to her. She slowly smooths the creases of her dress self-consciously and looks from beneath her lashes.

"Look who's talking." She replies back quietly.

The atmosphere is heavy with things said, and not said at all. Brittany tries to say everything with the hesitant touch on Santana's knee. The dark haired girl's breath shudders and grows heavy as they move closer. Santana brings her hand up to caress Brittany's neck. The feather light touch is tortuous to Brittany as her breath begins to quicken. Santana's breath is heavy and warm as she presses her lips softly against the shell of Brittany's ear.

"Te diré todo lo pronto, mi amor."

The words send shivers down her spine.

"_Car's ready_."

* * *

><p>There's flashing lights everywhere, and bright lights that tower above the rows of cameras and photographers. She has to force herself not to do a Taylor Swift and squint excessively. There are rows of screaming fans across the street begging to get a chance to just to see someone famous. There are pushy people in business suits and sunglasses pulling men and women more attractive than most in front of cameras and giving them directions to pose and wave. It's awkward.<p>

She watches from afar as Santana poses for the screaming photographers. Her demeanour is strong, and causes attention to easily fall upon her. She looks confident, sexy, but more than anything - she looks like she belonged in that spot blowing kisses for the paparazzi. Brittany thinks she glows. The lights made her eyes even deeper, and her skin even more radiant. She was breathtaking, and the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.

She watches the commotion with vested interest from her spot further down the carpet. Tyler is speaking to some familiar faces Brittany has little interest in meeting and continues to look up the carpet to watch Santana work.

"Well, if it isn't Brittany S. Pierce. How quaint -the little chauffeur-slash-dancer at her first shindig."

Brittany turns towards the voice. There stands Gary Leonard. He now wears a black suit with a red tie which he buttons up as he walks closer towards her.

His eyes are unreadable and icey as he fixes his gaze upon her face. Brittany feels uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze. His eyes follows hers to see Santana now giving interviews to reporters behind the barriers. He laughs humourlessly as she turns back towards him.

"She's finally got her claws into you I see."

She watches him warily as he grins and puts his hands in his pant pockets.

"Oh, just look at you!" He practically coos like a pigeon, "I bet she nearly had a coronary in excitement. Poor girl."

Brittany shrugs,

"Well duh - it's her film premier."

He barks out a laugh that causes Brittany to flinch and stare at the man with his head thrown back in amusement.

"Why yes, yes, it is, Miss Pierce."

There's silence in the tense conversation and Brittany watches him with narrowed eyes as he fiddles with his inside jacket pocket and slowly takes out an ivory coloured business card. He smirks as she puts it into Brittany's hand and bends her fingers over the card.

_Alyson Michaels_  
><em>Talent Agent<em>

"What's this?"

"That is a business card, Brittany." He replies slowly, "I'm returning the favour for doing such a good job for me. You're very interesting, Miss Pierce." His eyes glance down Brittany's body in an appraising fashion. His gaze making Brittany shudder, "You're the talk of all the dance studios in town, from what I hear. I can see you being a decent flash in the pan pop star." He flicks the card in her hand. She flinches, "She's expecting your call."

He begins to walk back up the red carpet back to Santana -who's still being interviewed going down the long row of reporters - but turns back to Brittany and smiles thinly,

"Oh, and please - don't let her down. You'll make me look bad."

He plasters a smug smile on his face and places the sunglasses that were perched in his front suit pocket over his eyes.

Tyler walks up to Brittany and nudges her shoulder in greeting and smiles knowingly.

"Had a run in with Gary I see."

Her brow creases into a frown as she watches him pull Santana by the hand to the next reporter and lurk off to the side of the camera listening intently to whatever the reporter is speaking about. She turns her head in Tyler's direction as she continues to watch him,

"I don't like him." She says bluntly.

Tyler laughs like he's heard it all before.

"Not many do, but he makes things happen. And disappear..." He trails off after seeing cameras pointed his way. He smiles, his perfect white teeth on show and his are eyes smouldering, "Santana didn't even want all this at first, and look at her now! It's so hard for Latina's to break through too. She's like the sexbomb with eons of talent. That's what they're selling her as - and it's working so far!"

Brittany just nods absently, her eyes still on Santana.

Just then two teenage girls, with braces, red dresses just that bit too big, and passes hung loosely around their necks choose that time to walk pass them and squeal in delight as they see who it is (Tyler really is a heartthrob after all). He smiles his most charming smile and waves, which causes the girls to run away and scream in the opposite direction.

"God, I love it when they do that!" He grins widely and nudges Brittany.

"You should see how he is with his other clients. He's practically joyful with Santana!"

They're herded by a woman with a clip board to move further down the carpet. They join the line and the woman hustles some other people to join the line behind them.

"So!" Tyler starts, "You're one of our little crew now, Brittany - how does it feel?"

She looks around at her environment and the long row of people they've joined to enter the theatre. There are barriers preventing people moving anywhere, there's music that's far too loud to create and atmosphere designed to be stifled, and the shouts and screams of the insulting photographers is enough to make Brittany want to run up to them and give them a piece of her mind. It doesn't feel very glamorous at all.

"Like I'm a cow."

* * *

><p>"Was it that bad?" Santana jokes as she walks up to Brittany and Tyler who are still sniffling from the heavy subject of the film they had just watched. Brittany likes her Disney films and those comedies when the geeky guy gets the girl in the end but she can like those gritty films that win awards too. She thinks this film might be one of those types of films.<p>

And she didn't really understand three quarters of it, but she was taken in by every word Santana said.

Santana left the theatre early into the screening. She whispered a hushed "I'll see you soon" and left with Gary leading her out. Brittany didn't dwell for too long – Santana was on the screen in front of her after all.

"Are you okay?" Santana's voice is soft, and her eyes are brimming with warmth when they're left alone waiting for the car. Tyler disappeared to network with some people Brittany still doesn't care about. She hands Brittany a tissue from her clutch purse and lightly rubs her shoulder.

"Where'd you go?" Brittany asks dabbing her eyes with the tissue Santana handed to her.

"Just around doing more press." She replies with a shrug and a half smile and steps closer to Brittany, "I kinda hate watching myself."

She sniffles and nods her head resolutely. She can watch for the both of them.

"It's okay – I'll watch everything you do twice so I can watch it for you."

The half smile stays as she looks behind her to see the car pulling up to the curb.

"C'mon." She speaks easily, and her eyes dance in the reflection of the lights. Brittany is completely and utterly taken in, "Let's get outta here."

* * *

><p><em>Reviews are like crack. Thanks for reading! See you on the other side! Update should be later in the week.<em>


	12. Make It Good Part Two

_Just want to say thanks to **AshleyDonovan** for pointing out my language fail. How the hell I managed to get my languages mixed up, and worse, not even notice it escapes me. Always been a better speaker of languages than writing (as per how poorly written this story is proves my point) but there'll be very little in future chapters. _

_Not entirely happy with this part. I try, what can I say. _

_Additional songs – The Chemical Brothers - Swoon (Boys Noize Summer Mix) , and this one in particular semi-inspired me for this fic - Bonobo - If You Stayed Over (Feat Fink)_

* * *

><p>Brittany feels strange sitting in the back of a limo with important Hollywood people. She's used to driving other people these days, instead of getting the one to be in the passenger seat. She feels slightly restless as she watches the city lights of Los Angeles float past. She isn't used to the way the leather seats stick to her thighs uncomfortably in her dress (which by the way, hurts like hell when it comes to having to rip your skin from the seat it sticks to), or the driver opening and closing the door, or the drinks that she'd have to stock everyday in Mulsanne herself are now available to her in the black limo she's been driven around in for free.<p>

She isn't used to the way Santana's pinky finger touches her own, either. It's hidden away from the prying eyes and the other people in the car. The simple movements cause her heart beat to race, her skin to flush. She wants more of it. Slowly, she wraps her own around Santana's and squeezes it tight against her own. She doesn't miss the small sigh that escapes Santana's lips.

She feels they're just putting off the inevitable at this point.

She could easily get used to _that_ of all things.

* * *

><p>They don't spend more than an hour at the after party the studio provided for the Premier. Santana groaned as Gary cornered them before getting in the car, promptly telling the driver where they were due to go next. Tyler didn't seem all that happy too as grabbed he Santana's hand and whispered something into her ear before pouting sullenly on her shoulder.<p>

Brittany does a great job at this 'networking' thing Santana and everyone else seems to go on about. She would speak when spoken to, laughed when she found something funny (although judging from reactions it seemed to be at the wrong time. Sucks for them), hand out her business card to people who seemed interested in her, and most importantly - she knew when to take a new glass of champagne from the waiters when she finished her glass. The last part was her favourite.

Santana would disappear for a few moments but would return with a hand on the small of her back and a whispered apology close to her ear - close enough to feel her breath on her cheek. She would turn to Santana every now and then to see her look slightly bored looking down at the Rolex watch on her wrist, before catching her eyes with a shy smile. It was those moments that were her favourite during the after party.

Brittany knew it was time to leave after an encounter with an attractive older woman who towered over them, with flowing long blonde hair, and a pearl coloured dress and shoes to match. She walks up to them with an aura of refined confidence and a manner that was too kind to be real. Her deep, green eyes simply light up when she spots Santana, which causes knots to form in Brittany's stomach. The large diamond and platinum-band on her ring finger does not go unnoticed to Brittany as it sparkles when the light hits it just the right way.

Santana's eyes narrow to slits and her mouth slackens into a pout as the woman grows closer. The woman smiles politely to the both of them as she moves closer to the both of them. There's a look in her eyes that's only reserved for Santana.

"Santana!" She exclaims as she puts her hands out to wrap her arms around Santana. She's moves in and leaves lingering kisses on Santana's cheek before looking softly into her eyes, "I've been looking for you." Her eyes move to hers as she tilts her head. Brittany stares back blankly giving away nothing, which causes the woman to smile wanly in her direction and looks back to Santana who still has her eyes narrowed. She clears her throat before continuing. "I just wanted to give you my congratulations on your performance, Santana. I was just blown away."

She pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear and laughs lightly before looking Santana in the eye. Brittany watches with rapt interest at their silent display of something she's not sure to question. The knots in her stomach only seem to get tighter.

"I can only hope our venture together is half as beautiful as that." The woman continues with a serene smile.

Santana can only muster an almost shy, muttered "thanks" at the high praise while opting to stare at the contents of her glass. The atmosphere is awkward, and Brittany isn't exactly sure what to do until the stunning woman catches Brittany's eyes and shakes her head in disbelief.

"I apologize for my rudeness; I've been on a mission to find dear Santana here. I'm Alyson, Alyson Michaels."

Brittany brightens in recognition of the name.

"Like the business card?" Brittany asks as she pulls out the card Gary gave her from her purse.

There's a look of recognition on her face as she quickly puts her hand out for Brittany to shake,

"Ahh, you must be Brittany S. Pierce!" The delight is evident in her voice as she clasps their hands together, "Gary told my husband all about you! Robert is very excited about you. He used to be a dancer, you see and likes to keep his ear close to the ground."

She looks over the card as she thumbs over the writing in a similar way Brittany did when Gary first gave her the card.

"It's rather odd he gave you my outdated card actually. I don't do much in terms of managing talent anymore. My husband does most of that these days. Santana here was the last person I signed before I started producing full-time."

Brittany looks over to Santana who has visibly paled emptying the contents of her glass and grabbing another from the brunette waitress who passes by.

Alyson opens her purse to find a card and offers Brittany to take it,

"Here's my husband's card." She places the card in her hand, "You should give him a call. I'm sure he'll be so excited to meet with you."

Brittany notices the lingering looks she gives Santana as she in return finds the contents of her glass still interesting.

"Well, I must leave you. I look forward to hearing from you, Brittany." Alyson's eyes catch Santana's eyes as they turn wistful, "Until next time, Santana."

It's when she walks away; Santana lets out a sharp breath of air that sounds a lot like a huff. She looks sick.

"She's beautiful." Brittany says softly, watching Santana closely for her reaction.

Santana snorts bitterly into her near empty glass of champagne,

"She's powerful."

They leave quickly after that.

* * *

><p>"Don't think I see what's going on, honey." Tyler says knowingly as they're waiting for dessert at a restaurant Brittany feels is just that little too fancy and expensive for her. It's just her and Tyler sitting by the window with a view of the botanical gardens of the property. Gary (who had stayed eerily quiet during their meal - chewing his steak methodically and sipping his wine excruciatingly slowly - except to speak to Santana, who spent most of the time seething in his direction) and Santana excused themselves after the waitress had taken their order. Brittany was beginning to wonder if they're going to come back the length of time they had been gone.<p>

She frowns in confusion as she picks at her cloth napkin under Tyler's scrutiny.

"What is going on?" She asks blankly.

"The moon eyes you've been giving my 'Tana all night."

She watches him warily but finds nothing in his face but amusement.

Brittany releases a sigh of relief. Its hard keeping this all bottled up. She's been doing a great job so far keeping all this confidential stuff just that, but sometimes she just needed to talk to someone to about this stuff. Tina would have been the one to talk to or even Quinn back in High school. The whole 'confidentially' thing sucks when you have a big mouth for a room mate and a crush on the person you're not supposed to talk about. The way Tyler is looking at her, with his kind smile makes her feel it's okay to talk about it. Finally.

"She's just so awesome." She starts, her smile begins to grow the more she thinks about all the things she's come to feel for Santana, "And sweet and so nice and thoughtful. The way she looks at me gives me funny feelings in my tummy I never want to go away. Her eyes are like hot chocolate during cold winter nights. Winter isn't my favourite season - I can't wear shorts and the cold means I have to layer instead of showing my flawless assets which is okay - but getting to drink my Mom's homemade hot chocolate is the best part. I could drink in Santana's eyes forever."

"Oh wow."

"I know." Brittany sighs out.

Tyler nudges her shoulder and turns to look at her fully. His eyes are full of understanding.

"She'll come round. All I'm gunna say is there's a lot Santana doesn't give away about herself, and yet here she is – taking you to premiers, going to dinner together and I'm sure you guys have done a lot more together!" he grins saucily before sobering up, "She's like a scared animal when it comes to talking about herself - push too hard and she'll run a mile. Hurt her and you'll make me a very sad Ty Ty."

"I sometimes think I upset her." She blurts out sadly.

"Why would you think that?" He asks. His confusion is apparent.

"She just looks so sad sometimes. I'll say something, and she'll just go quiet and go somewhere else. It's like I remind her of something or someone. I don't know, maybe I'm being weird."

Brittany watches Tyler's face for a reaction. His forehead is creased in empathy at first. Soon enough his faces slackens and his eyes become wide. It looks a lot like realization falls into place. It confuses Brittany more than ever.

"I don't think you're being weird at all." He replies softly.

Brittany lets his words sink in for the fleeting moments before their desserts are delivered. She's is half way through her white chocolate sundae when Santana and Gary come back. She notices Santana has reapplied her nude lipstick and Gary's demeanour looks that little undone compared to how intimidating he normally is. Something has gone on between the two and she's not exactly sure what.

"Get your Chapstick on, Mai Tai. You know what time it is."

"After my dessert, Santana. You know how disgusting I find cherry Chapstick with chocolate fudge cheesecake."

Tyler wolfs down his dessert messily which has Brittany giggling at his moans of delight and his chocolate moustache. She ignores Gary's hum of consternation.

"Well. This is an unforeseen problem." Gary says as he surveys his phone.

Santana rolls her eyes.

"What is it now?" She snaps.

"There are more than twenty photographers outside."

"For us?" Tyler's glee is obvious as he clasps his hands together.

Gary silences his excitement with a swift look of disgust before turning his eyes back to Santana.

"Like I'm famous enough for that shit." Her tone is full of disbelief as she fixes Gary with a hard gaze.

"This has been on the cards for a while now, Santana. I'm caught off guard it happened this evening, more than anything." Gary replies calmly.

Santana wrings her hands together anxiously.

"This is the last PR tip off job I'm doing until The Hard Parade comes out."

Gary nods absently.

"I can agree to that. However, you still need to keep up appearances with this one here," Gary nods his head with distain in Tyler's direction. Brittany looks on as Tyler rolls his eyes and puckers his lips.

Santana only nods and clenches her hands into fists.

"Let's go. I'm already feeling like a rat in a cage."

* * *

><p>Gary leaves them soon after the restaurant. They dropped him off at an apartment block that Brittany knew was designed for the rich and famous judging from the glass walls and wooden beams of the entrance. She was glad when he left, his presence worried her more than any person's should.<p>

The car stops at a small bar on The Sunset Strip in West Hollywood. It's nothing to look at on the outside, but inside it's full of white leather love seats, and blue leather booths that line the walls. There's a medium sized dancefloor in the middle of the room where people are dancing along to the heavy beat of dance music. As they walk up to the bar it's when Brittany notices a lot of the people on the dancer floor are same sex partnerships. She quickly realises most of the patrons are gay men and women.

A woman nearing her forties with dyed pink hair and a black pantsuit comes out from behind the bar to greet Santana and Tyler with a quick peck of the cheek.

"Brittany, Robin. Robin, Brittany." Tyler shouts over the music. Robin winks at her in return.

Tyler spends most of their time by the bar talking animatedly to a blonde haired man with large muscles that look fit to burst free from his Fred Perry polo shirt. Brittany's just happy to sit this one out.

They sit in a darkened corner, secluded by the shadows of the of the pink and blue coloured wall lights. The music throbs though the walls and seats that they're slouched in as Santana watches Brittany drink a colourful cocktail. She nods her head happily as she takes each sip with a smile of her face.

She watches Santana from the corner of her eyes. Watching her chest rise and fall, the way her head is titled to the side to watch her as she drinks is enough for her heartbeat to race. The way she watches Brittany sends an appraising shiver that reaches her belly and makes her feel warm. It's more intoxicating than any of the alcohol she's consumed. And there's been a lot of that.

Normally she'd be all over the dance floor dancing and making out with people left, right and centre. The dress would have been gone without a second thought, but she knows well enough that there's no way in hell she could afford to buy the dress on her pay grade. So she behaves and sits to take in the atmosphere, and to take in Santana taking in her. There's nothing else she'd rather do.

"You seem to be enjoying that cocktail of yours." Amusement creeps into Santana's tone.

"It's awesome!" She replies back giddily.

Santana giggles which is music to Brittany's ears.

"Thank you for inviting me, Santana. I've had the bestest time with you."

"I'm glad. I'm sorry I kinda left you alone a lot."

"I'm just happy I got to spend time with you."

Her tounge is looser the more alcohol she consumes. Her words are more slurred and slower but more truthful than they already are.

"I just love spending time with you Santana! You make me feel so happy! Like, awesome stuff and stuff. I feel like I've known you forever, you're just so easy to be around!" She laughs happily as she slurps the last of her cocktail nosily.

She places the glass down on the table and gives Santana her full attention. Her vision starts to blur and Santana's eyes start to double. She moves closer to Santana as she presses herself against up against the wall of the booth as Brittany presses herself up against her. The smell of her perfume consumes Brittany and makes her feel just that little bit more drunk.

Santana's face is contorted in confusion of her actions but Brittany just wants to push further.

"What are you doing, Britt?" Santana asks breathlessly.

Brittany has to focus twice as hard to look into Santana's intense gaze mixed with sadness and admiration and so many other things her mind is to jumbled up to think about. She's sure, they're full of something that gnaws at Brittany conscience. It almost feels like guilt. She pulls back and rests her forehead against the warm flesh of Santana's shoulder. She sighs serenely, and yet she can't help blurting out the words that come from her mouth,

"Sometimes I feel like I'm one of the things that make you so sad. But it's okay," She smiles warmly and caresses Santana's cheek with the back of her hand, "I'm not gunna hurt you. I promise I'm never gunna hurt you."

She lets out a ragged breath and looks heavenward which looks a lot like most she's praying for a release of something. Her eyes shine in the low light. They're bright and crisp and just so alive Brittany just wants to reach out and touch her.

So, she does. She drags the back of her hand across her creased brow frowning in confusion, running the length of her index finger up and down the creases until they slacken.

"I'd never..." She whispers breathlessly. It's full of so much weight Brittany doesn't understand to even question. Santana shakes her head and looks for the words in the burning candle on the table. "One of these days, Brittany I'm going to be strong enough to tell you all the things I was too scared to tell you. Just, not now. Not yet." Her voice is so broken, and so sad Brittany snuggles closer to Santana.

_If only I could just..._

Brittany brings her hands to Santana's face, forcing the dark haired girl to face her. Her eyes are closed and her breath comes out in short bursts, and her face is shadowed with something a lot like pain. Her lips have never looked more inviting as Brittany closes the distance that feels like miles to press her lips against her own.

It's soft and almost chaste. It doesn't last long, and but her mouth moves slowly against Santana's pliant mouth. Brittany doesn't give her the time to reciprocate before she pulls back with her eyes closed, afraid to break this moment.

"...Feel you."

When Santana opens her eyes, they're unfocused and dazed. Brittany wants to close the distance and kiss her all over again. Harder, faster and deeper. She's about to when Santana takes her hands and links them in her own and moves away from the wall of the booth.

"What did you feel?" She whispers into her ear. Her dark hair tickles her cheek, causing shivers to ripple down her spine.

Everything about her is intoxicating. She's not sure if she's drunk on alcohol or just the Santana of it all.

She smiles toothily and rests her forehead against Santana's cheek.

"You." She sighs back, "I felt you."

* * *

><p>She's drunk. Her vision swims, and her depth perception has taken a nose dive. She's had too much fun, danced too much and drank too much expensive champagne. She's proud she managed to dance and not take her clothes off as they partied into the early hours of the morning.<p>

Brittany's not exactly sure how Santana managed to get them back here or Tyler back to his own room but here they are. Santana pulls her over to the couch and gets her to sit as she gets her a bottle of water from the fridge.

She rises as soon as she leaves and moves as best she can over to the ipod dock perched on the vanity case in the bedroom and presses play to something she's never heard before. It's jazzy and understated and makes her feel so sexy that she starts to dance slowly around the room for release.

Her movements are languid as she sways around the room. She kicks off her heels slowly, one by one as she continues to move. Her vision is blurred and her ears echo and ring with the intoxication of alcohol and something a lot like love. She closes her eyes, feeling nothing but the beat and she slowly starts to unzip the back of her dress, never stopping her movements.

"Dance with me" she whispers over to the girl she knows is watching, leaning against the doorway.

She feels a presence behind her as the zip goes even lower, no longer by her own hands. She steps out of the dress and leaves it pooled on the carpeted floor as she wears nothing but her blue lace underwear. She turns into Santana's embrace and places her forehead on her shoulder and breathes out heavily.

Their warm breathes mingle together and sync so perfectly that Brittany feels has never been more perfect. In and out. In and Out. They dance in circles as Santana's hand trails the warm flesh of her back leaving burning touches as she pull her closer.

Santana starts to hum, the vibrations rippling though Brittany's chest cause her breath to quicken

"_If I breathe in the future, breathe out the past, yeah." _She sings softly into her neck,_ "Savour this moment as long as it lasts._"

Her eyes find it hard to focus on Santana's as their heads move closer while they still move slowly around the room.

"_Make it good_." Santana continues to sing. Her smile is serene and the happiest Brittany can ever remember seeing.

The moment is lost when she trips and stumbles over her feet and falls into Santana in fits of giggles.

Santana smiles and pushes her hair back behind her shoulder.

"Let's get you to bed." She says softly.

She wraps her arm around Brittany's waist as the room begins to spin in nauseating fashion which only seems to get worse as she places her head on the pillow. Santana opens the bottle of water and hands her a pill to take before she sleeps.

"Stay with me." She whispers desperately clinging to Santana's hand as the room spins that little less.

Santana kisses her forehead and brings the covers up to her chin as she smiles down at her.

"I will. Don't worry."

Her eyes grow heavier as she feels Santana's weight lift from the bed. She forces herself to stay awake, waiting for Santana to join her. She watches her strip from the black and gold beaded dress in the bathroom mirror, clean her teeth, remove the false eyelashes and make up from her face, and pop far too many pills into her mouth for things Brittany has no clue. She watches as Santana catches her reflection to take a long hard look at herself. The dark haired girl stands there long enough for her eyes to shut and fall into almost slumber.

As she nears sleep, she feels the weight of arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her in closer. She welcomes it more than anything.

When she sleeps, she dreams of Alice in Wonderland, and Santana meeting Lord Tubbington at the zoo.

* * *

><p><em>So that happened. Again thanks for reading. Reviews of all kinds are welcome and keep on keeping on.<em>


	13. Give Me Anything

_I know it can get confusing at times, but I've littered some clues here and there vague or otherwise. When everything unravels and the story is finished I'd like to think you can see the inklings I gave and maybe even could be a story you go back and read the clues. The 'mystery' hasn't got long to go so I hope you guys can stay patient for just a while longer. Again thank you for all the reviews and just taking the time out to read my story! _

_Febuary is looking to be a rather busy time for me, so apologies in advance if I'm not able to get any updates posted throughout this time._

_I was getting ma listen on during this chapter quite extensively to Lana Del Rey – National Anthem, Broken Social Scene – 7/4 Shoreline and Mates of State - Now_

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><p>Brittany has been awake for over an hour now, and for all intents and purposes – she's felt better. Her head is a little achy and her eyes won't focus all too well, and the blinding pain from the light bleeding through the curtains is enough to make her want to throw up. Brittany thinks if she could projectile vomit from her eyes she would.<p>

She awoke to find herself in nothing but her super hot blue lace underwear and an empty side of the bed she was sure was taken by Santana not just hours before. There was a bottle of water next to a glass, and a sachet of Alka Seltzer waiting for her on the bedside table - which she gingerly ripped open and watched the tablet dissolve into bubbles. She gulped the drink down stopping every time she had the urge to regurgitate the liquid back up. She wants to say it's made her feel better, but she's waiting for the kick. It hasn't happened yet.

Her memory is a little fuzzy after that third shot with Tyler and some drag queen with the pinkest wig Brittany has ever seen, but she knows she didn't strip – in public anyway. Remembering things that aren't stripper related while under the influence of things is not really her strongest point. She remembers the champagne (which managed to make her that little bit tipsy that little bit faster than her usual fruity vodka based drinks), she also remembers kissing Santana in a darkened booth of a bar, but she remembers the dancing around the dark of the hotel room the best. She remembers that being super sexy.

She's too achy to leave from her place on the way too comfy bed, and the way the sheets hit her flesh is far too welcoming as her stomach jolts unfavourably with each move she makes.

Her eyes are starting to feel heavy and she begins to drift back to sleep again when she's startled by the sound the door to the suite opening. She keeps her eyes closed as she uses her other senses to feel the person in the other room moving quietly around the suite. She strains her hearing to feel where and what they're doing.

Her eyes open as she watches Santana walk into the bedroom and tip toes around the room in her black skinny jeans and white translucent sleeveless blouse – which in case you were wondering, totally shows off her red t-shirt bra - hugging her figure in all the best places. In the light of the room, Brittany can see her makeup is minimal, and her hair tied back in a messy bun with a gold headband keeping away the stray hairs from around her face. She wears it so effortlessly and Brittany wonders how she manages to get even more beautiful with each passing day.

She has her oversized tan purse threaded though her arm as her movements are laboured to stop any unnecessary noise. Brittany thinks she looks adorable - like a little mouse Lord Tubbington would paw at when he could be bothered with attempting to move. She can't help but be amused.

"I'm awake, you know." Brittany says as she watches Santana empting the contents of her bag onto the table nearest the French doors to the balcony.

Santana freezes and Brittany giggles before having to stop due to the nausea that starts to bubble under the surface. Brittany watches Santana carefully as she takes a medium sized brown paper bag from the table and makes a move to sit down next to her on the bed. Her movements are still mannered and slow, and her eyes are soft as she catches her own. Her smile is small as she watches Brittany rest her hand on her forehead. As she sits next to Brittany on the bed she rests her arm over Brittany's legs over the top of the white comforter and leans forward. It's a small moment of intimacy that Santana has initiated and Brittany almost wants to melt.

Santana's expression is warm and full of concern as she tilts her head in empathy,

"How are you feeling this morning?"

Brittany pouts and pushes her nightmare case of bed hair behind her ears.

"My head hurts."

Santana nods sagely and smirks,

"The Champers has done you in. I blame the bubbles." She laughs like music Brittany thinks as she continues, "Maybe those fruity cocktails helped things along too. Or even the gross milk based shots you and Tyler seemed to love."

Brittany groans and throws her hand over her eyes, making Santana laugh again.

She moves her hand back and forth on the duvet near her legs, almost in a caressing manner. Santana watches her own movements absently not seeming to realise how much of an effect it has on Brittany. It is enough for her to sigh in content as the butterflies begin to emerge amongst the ache of her hangover.

She kind of loves it.

She continues to watch as she rests her head back on the pillow and wonders what Santana was doing to leave the hotel at an early hour.

"Where'd you go?" Brittany asks innocently.

Santana shrugs and gives her a fleeting look of nonchalance,

"I had a few errands to run close by." Brittany is patient as she waits expectantly for Santana to elaborate. It's not long before Santana shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, "I also had an audition."

Brittany jumps up in the bed in excitement, which she quickly regrets.

"Really?" She starts then quickly settles back into the bed as a flash of pain hits her square in her right eye, "That's so cool! Did you do well? I bet you were awesome – no you were awesome. I know you were awesome."

Santana laughs, her cheeks beginning to turn a shade of pink and pushes Brittany further into the covers.

"If I get a callback, we know how well it went."

There's a small but comfortable silence as Brittany watches Santana move further up the bed and catches her eyes fleetingly with a smile on her face.

"So, I got you a few things." Santana says tentatively holding up the brown paper bag. "Hopefully they'll get you raring to go. Well, for driving me to set later on."

She starts to blush and avert her eyes to look out of the French doors. The light catches the brown of her eyes so perfectly Brittany stops breathing.

Her eyes are wide as Santana looks back towards her - who looks confused for a moment - before she starts taking the contents out of the bag, listing them as she takes them out. Brittany thinks she's found perfection in a person when Santana takes the Grape Gatorade and places it in her hands along with the chewable multivitamins she used to eat far more than the recommended daily allowance when she was a child. The day she camped out in her parent's en-suite bathroom was enough for her to learn that tasty lesson.

She happily chews on one of the multivitamins that happens to be blackcurrant as she takes a sip from the Gatorade bottle already feeling slightly better just having Santana that close to her.

She eyes Santana nervously playing with the brown bag, pulling out a small, black bag by the drawstring handles.

She her eyes catch the label on the bag – Gucci.

Santana gives her a half smile and lifts the bag in front of her,

"I got you something else, too." She says quietly. Her voice is small and Brittany gulps as she places the bag on the bed.

She stares blankly at the bag for a few moments. Santana looks on in encouragement to open the bag. Which she does eventually – very slowly.

She meticulously pulls the bag – which is rather light – closer towards her and peers into it. There's a small black box with a sliver Gucci embellishment inside which she pulls out carefully. Her eyes nervously flick over to Santana's - who is wringing her hands - as she watches on from her spot on the bed.

Brittany doesn't like the material of box – one touch and there are fingerprints forever. She opens the box to find a leather glasses case. She opens the case slowly and finds the coolest pair of aviator sunglasses she's ever seen. The black leather and gold frames scream class as the natural light bleeding into the room catches the Gucci logo causing a glint against them.

"Wow." She breathes out

She's never had designer things. She's always had style and grace (and _knows_ she always looks good. Let's be real) but she never felt the need to buy designer things, when instead she could buy a free flowing supply of Hershey's kisses, or Twizzlers.

She's pretty sure they cost a lot, and her eyes flash to Santana's full of appreciation and awe of Santana even thinking of buying something like that for her.

She's speechless. And so happy she could burst.

"It's not much, but I thought you'd suit 'em." Santana says carefully. He voice is warm and kind and when Brittany continues to stare blankly at the glasses, moves closer and smiles brightly when she catches Brittany's eyes. There's a look in her eyes that Brittany's never seen before. It's almost careless and full of excitement, and maybe even joy.

"Here – let me put them on for you."

She carefully takes the glasses from Brittany's hand and unfolds them and moves closer towards Brittany, her smile still in place. Brittany can smell the intoxicating scent of Santana's perfume that makes her dizzy in all the best ways. Her breath hitches and eyes flutter shut from the close proximity.

Santana pushes the sunglasses onto her face and brushes her nose with her finger and she pushes them up the bridge of her nose. Brittany finds it far sexier than she should. She doesn't move back when she's finished.

"There, less of that hangover squint!" She says in triumph, "You'll look cooler than all the other basic chauffeur bitches, without question. You're the swag queen!"

Brittany can't think anymore as Santana's cool, minty breath hits her cheek.

She rushes forward and wraps her arm around Santana, pulling her closer and pressing their lips together. Santana's mouth is unmoving and her body stiff as Brittany runs the tip of her tongue along Santana's lower lip. She pants into the kiss as Santana's shoulders relax and she falls into the kiss with the abandonment Brittany has wished for since she's met her.

She can't blame alcohol for this one and she wouldn't want to either. The warmth that surrounds her, the butterflies that fly around her stomach, the fireworks dancing behind her eyelids caused by Santana kissing her back with something that feels a lot like heaven is enough to drive her to the edge of pleasure. Her heartbeat races and beats nosily in her ears. She thinks she could do this forever.

She deepens the kiss even further as Santana's hands slowly roam up and down the naked flesh of her back, causing warmth to pool in her stomach and heat to rise somewhere just a little lower.

Brittany's hands start to move tenderly up to the back of Santana's neck and traces circular patterns with her thumb as her other hand starts to move underneath the translucent material of her white shirt. She runs her hand along her hip causing Santana to flinch.

She stiffens and she pulls away hastily and runs her hands through her hair as she rushes to pace the other side of the room. Brittany would find her reddening cheeks and flustered demeanour a lot more adorable if she could go back to kissing her again.

There's something that looks almost like disbelief in her eyes as Santana paces the length of the floor. Brittany wants to comfort her but she's afraid that Santana would push her away. She's not sure if it's a good thing or not. As she watches Santana's pacing - her body language frayed around the edges and unkempt, her lips swollen from the kiss – all she wants to do is kiss her over and over again.

"Do you want food?" Santana asks almost calmly, "I'm gunna order up some room service. You want pancakes?"

Brittany can only nod as she tries to quell her intensity of her breathing and slow her heart-rate. She watches Santana leave the room, her face is dazed and her eyes full of questions she has no answers to.

She decides to shower and dress into the vest and sweatpants she planned to sleep in when she hears Santana talking on the phone. She takes the sunglasses off and puts them back in the leather casing and kisses them before placing them on the bedside table.

She uses the free fancy shower gel that smells like coconut and the fancy moisturiser. She takes a few moments before leaving the bathroom to take a look at her in the mirror trying to find a change in her like she sees in all the movies, but she doesn't see anything different at all. She looks as hot as ever, maybe a bit thinner but nothing really noticeable. She heard people say love changes you but there's nothing outwardly different.

When she leaves the marble bathroom she finds Santana sitting on the bed staring at the ground. Her face snaps to her own when she re-enters the room, her eyes ablaze and full of intensity. Brittany is frozen in her place as Santana begins to move towards her. Her eyes look hungry as she prowls even closer. The air gets thicker with anticipation as Santana stops only inches in front of her.

"Are you okay?" She swallows nervously as Santana seems taken with her lips.

Her back collides with the wall as Santana grabs her by the waist. The hands on her waist shake with tenderness as she softly captures Brittany's lips. She pulls back and kisses her deeper as Brittany wraps her arms around her neck and moans into the kiss. Her knees are weak and her head is dizzy feeling Santana everywhere, supporting her against the wall so tenderly. She's pretty sure no one has kissed her with so much care before. It's everything and overwhelming and she can't stop the light moans that escape her lips.

_Knock knock knock_

Santana tears her lips away with one last nip at her lower lip, and rests her forehead against her own as she breathes heavily.

The knocking becomes persistent and Santana rolls her eyes and pulls away from Brittany with her eyes never leaving the floor. There's a sound that Brittany thinks sounds like a dog whining desperate to get a door opened. She watches as Santana regains her composure in the other room and goes to open the door while she flops down onto the bed in content, her mind filled with nothing but the feeling of Santana.

She hears Tyler before she sees him. His low groan echoes around the suite as she watches Tyler crawl into the bedroom on his hands and knees wearing nothing but a blue bathrobe. Santana follows him in with a roll of the eyes and her arms folded across her chest. His eyes are bloodshot, and the dark circles under his eyes tell the signs of exhaustion, and his five o'clock shadow is dark against his skin. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes permeates the air and Brittany scrunches her nose up at the stench. She wonders if she still smells like that too and makes a note to herself to take another shower soon.

"ohmygodohmygodohmygod." He rambles as he crawls up to the bed, " I feel so ill! I had to _crawl_ through the hallways of the Four Seasons. _Crawl_."

"You so classy." Santana says snidely.

"I feel vulgar." Tyler states dramatically, as he flounces heavily onto the bottom of the bed and curls up into the fetal position.

Santana smacks him on the shoulder.

"Well, I've ordered the usual to sober you up."

Tyler turns a shade of grey.

"I threw up in my mouth a little bit."

Santana looks disgusted and takes a very large step backwards.

"So, who was casting director for this one?"

Brittany assumes he's asking about the audition.

"Denise."

Tyler kisses his teeth.

"Oh, I see." He states saucily, "Did you give her a sneak peak of just what _exactly_ you can do in the restrooms to seal the deal?"

Brittany wishes she could see Tyler's expressions as Santana shuts down in front of her, giving Tyler a hard glare and grits her teeth.

"As if. Some of us actually have talent."

"Sure, and some of us also know who to cosy up to."

Santana curls her hands into fists as her body tenses. Brittany's not really sure what's happening but she does not like what it's doing to Santana.

"And some of us," Her voice is dangerous and even, "Are still obviously drunk."

Santana points her finger to her throat and Tyler holds his hands up in mock surrender as she glowers in the middle of the room. Brittany thinks the atmosphere in the room just managed to get a lot more strained.

Tyler decides to ignore the tension he created.

"Will you get me water, 'Tana?" He asks sweetly.

Santana just continues to glower.

"I'm not your slave," She mutters back, "Fuck you."

"Pleeeeease?" he drawls.

Santana stamps her foot petulantly as she moves forward to sit on the bed. He grabs Santana's arms and pulls her to the ground in front of the bed and wraps her up in a suffocating hug, preventing her from escaping and showers kisses all over her face.

Santana stiffens and looks panicked as Tyler continues his antics. Santana begins to struggle and her eyes look wild and alarmed as Brittany looks on, worried at Santana's reaction.

Brittany almost attempts to intervene but Tyler suddenly stops and Santana crawls backwards to escape. Her nostrils are flared and her eyes are dangerously dark as she sends Tyler a withering look,

"You smell like a kegger, a homeless person, and a fratboy douche who thinks spraying cheap cologne will hide the fact they fucking reek of Body Odour and weed all rolled into one. I think I may actually vomit. I think I'll go purge on your Prada loafers in revenge, Titty Caca. Don't do that ever again!"

Santana throws Tyler a bottle of water (hitting him painfully in the chest) and storms out of the room into the living area.

Brittany can't help feel Tyler managed to ruin everything in the space of a few minutes.

"I don't think she liked that." Brittany says quietly.

"You're right, Brittany." He nods.

She begins to worry on her bottom lip.

"Maybe forcing it onto her isn't a good idea." She says quietly.

Brittany wonders if maybe she should take her own advice.

Tyler laughs and gingerly rolls over on the bed to face her. His eyes are bleary and his movements are wobbly; like a plate of jelly that's been placed on a table only to get knocked as someone walks past.

"She was just embarrassed. She's going to go and walk it off, then she'll probably get us something as a token of apology and then we'll all act like nothing happened."

The door opens and shuts as Santana leaves the suite. The silence in the room begins to ring in Brittany's ears. He was right.

He unscrews the cap of water Santana had thrown at him, and takes larges gulps. It's the first time since Brittany has met Tyler that she has found his attitude troubling. He made the person she was here for leave and interrupted the best make out session she's ever remembered. She wants to call her and tell her to come back, but her phone is left behind on the table from earlier.

"Maybe you should find a token too?"

Tyler eyes her with almost appraising eyes.

"I bet she's going to get doughnuts or frozen yoghurt." Tyler muses absently, curling into the bed covers.

"Why?"

"Because she knows I love sugary deliciousness and you do too! Pity treats! It's kinda our thing, I mean - I bought her a box of glazed blueberry Krispy Kreme doughnuts when I felt up her tits for the first time. She got over it after those bad boys."

* * *

><p>Brittany is at the dining table, nearing the end of stuffing her mouth with pancakes swimming in maple syrup while Tyler is draped over the couch eating a strip of bacon, watching some topical news programme Brittany has no care about when Santana comes back. Her hands are filled with a cup tray holding two cups of frozen yoghurt bedazzled with sprinkles, and iced coffee.<p>

Tyler gingerly leaves his spot to kiss Santana on the cheek and whispers an apology as he takes his frozen yoghurt (with pineapple and gummy bears), and moves to the bedroom; shutting the door behind him.

Brittany smiles before going back to demolishing the last of her pancakes. She's so distracted that she doesn't feel Santana's presence until her hip bumps against her shoulder, and slides the cup overflowing with rainbow sprinkles and chocolate chips onto the table and places an iced coffee and a box of Dots candy alongside.

"I got you extra sprinkles."

Brittany thinks it sounds a lot like an apology.

* * *

><p>Brittany walks into the garage mid-afternoon in her uniform, wearing the new sunglasses Santana bought her. Her hair is sleek in the bun Santana put up for her, and her black drivers cap is titled forward in a way Michael Jackson would have been proud of. Her holdall is slung over her shoulder and it's safe to say - she feels even cooler than usual. The smirk and swag she adorns is part of the ensemble. Fierce.<p>

She's met with hoots and hollers of her colleagues as she walks past the cars they're working on. She grins and pirouettes before she makes a beeline to Carl who is standing by Mulsanne with his moustache bristling.

"So, how was the premier, kid?" Carl asks as she walks with him into his office.

"I cried."

He lets out a low whistle.

"That bad, eh?"

She can't stop the airy smile escaping.

"That good." She sighs dreamily.

Carl eyes her with an amused look.

"You eaten?"

Brittany shrugs.

"I could eat."

"Great!" Carl exclaims before moving to pick up his jacket from the back of his chair, "You can buy me lunch with that paycheck I give ya."

So she does.

* * *

><p>Brittany lets him go wherever he wanted because he is her boss after all, and she should do whatever he asks of her. She was relieved her bank account wasn't going to take that much of a hit when he decided he wanted to go to Cheesecake Factory, because Tina would have been angry if she found out she'd spent her paycheck on 'fancy things'. It's rather quiet at this time of the day and the conversation had been small and sparse while they waited for dinner.<p>

Until now that is.

"So, you and Santana."

Carl eyes her from his sit opposite with a critical look. His eyes narrowing as he speaks while finishing the last of his Marinara pasta.

"You been gettin' dinner with each other for the past fortnight."

His tone is light, even friendly but it doesn't stop Brittany begin to feel uneasy. She didn't tell him this.

"Yes." She nods.

"And she took you to her movie premier."

"Uh huh."

"And you passed out on her doorstep when you really should have been - ya know - not there..." He puts down his fork and picks up his napkin,"...And now you're rocking a pair of designer shades that I _definitely_ don't pay you well enough to get yourself."

Brittany takes a large gulp of her milkshake.

"So." He says finitely putting his used napkin onto the table, "You got something to tell me?"

"This butter pecan milkshake is awesome?"

"'Cause ya know, there's a strict no fraternizing with the clients policy."

"And that means...?"

"It means, tap that ass, and friendly is not all you are and I find out I'd have to fire you, 'kay?"

"Oh."

"But you and Santana are just friends so I wouldn't have to do that, right?"

The feeling of dread fills her stomach. She _has_ been way too obvious, or his spies told him something.

He knows.

So she swallows audibly and sets herself up for the best and worst lie she'll probably have to tell.

"Right."

Carl slaps his hand on the table and the atmosphere vanishes. The words still linger around Brittany.

"Great! I wouldn't say no to dessert, by the way."

Brittany doesn't say much after that.

* * *

><p>The sun is beginning to set when she's back at the entrance of the Four Seasons with Mulsanne waiting for Santana to appear from the hotel.<p>

Ever since she left Carl and the garage, her mind has been consumed with paranoia. Did they all know? Was she really that obvious? Did Gary know? He seemed to enjoy mocking her so maybe he did. Maybe he told them, since he seems to know everything. She knew Tyler knew, but Tina was none the wiser because she didn't even know who Santana Lopez even was (well she thinks anyway) and that she was even driving her. A burning feeling, prickly and dark felt like it was wrapping around her throat and clawing at her chest. It felt like panic and it was beginning to escalate.

"We meet again." Santana smirks at her, as she struts towards the open door of the car. The dark haired girl is putting on a show for everyone and yet she's really the only one watching. She feels relieved and tips her hat silently in greeting.

Santana stops in front of Brittany and smiles in such a way her eyes brighten. Brittany's mouth goes dry.

"You really suit those sunglasses." She says bashfully.

Her outfit is still the same, her hair is still pulled back in a messy bun, and her sunglasses are placed atop her head. Yet, Brittany can't help feel something has changed. Santana seems to have finally opened up to her and all she wants to do is run away. She fidgets and puts her hands into her pockets.

"Santana if you get in that car and let Brittany drive away, I'll post that picture of you trying to ass-ulate Nicki Minaj on my twitter!"

Santana groans under her breath and looks back towards the entry way where Tyler is shouting from standing next to a suited man holding a clipboard.

"Tyler's tagging along?" Brittany asks bouncing back and forth on her feet.

Santana rubs her temples forlornly and heaves a heavy sigh.

"Unfortunately. He's got nothing better to do, apparently."

"I don't know his coffee order."

Santana snorts and looks back over her shoulder,

"He can deal without."

There's a silence and Santana still doesn't make a move to get in the car, but instead looks around at the people loitering around the entrance before stepping closer to Brittany, lowering her head and her voice,

"Look, I'm sorry about earlier."

Brittany frowns in confusion. She has nothing to be sorry for.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"I have lots to be sorry for." Santana quickly interrupts, "It's fucked up; I shouldn't have acted like I did. I just, didn't think – I mean...Being around you is kinda overwhelming. I took advantage when I shouldn't have, and I regret it."

Santana's face flashes with sadness before looking back towards her sheepishly.

"I wanted it just as much, Santana." She replies quietly. She's looks around at the other people in the foyer suspiciously. Santana seems to notice and smiles ruefully.

Brittany wonders if she could ever be as unreadable the same way Santana is when she wears her sunglasses. Probably not.

Santana surveys her for a moment before her brow creases as she folds her arms tight to her chest. She takes in a deep breath and lets it out gently. Brittany thinks she's never looked so calm and open as she gives another part of herself.

"We're friends, right? I mean I think that's what we are first and foremost. I'll be anything you're happy with I'm just –," Her voice breaks slightly as she fixes her with a small, sad smile, "I'm happy to have you in my life. Maybe we could talk sometime."

She's just given her an out when she wasn't looking for one and Brittany is floored she'd even do that. She feels guilty.

Santana's lips press into a thin line and she looks like she's recomposing herself when she looks down to the grown before facing Brittany again. Brittany's not sure what to say. Santana looks like she's about to speak again when Tyler jogs up with a suitcase trailing noisily behind him and a olive green canvas holdall slung over his shoulder, looking every bit the rugged movie star all the girls fall for. His face is unshaven and his hair lacking the large of amounts of product it usually has, and his jeans hang loosely on his lips but it looks so effortless Brittany is kind of jealous.

"Ready?" He implores politely.

Santana gives a half smile and gets into the car, leaving Tyler waiting for her to pop the hood of the car.

As she waits for Tyler to she knows she needs to do something for Santana.

She opens the passenger door and spots Santana on her phone texting. Without giving Santana any time to realise what is even happening, she swoops in like an eagle finding its prey and kisses Santana on the cheek. She can't help but smile widely at Santana's wide eyes as she pulls herself backwards out of the car.

"Ditto."

She shuts the door and runs around to open the car door for Tyler with a grin.

She just hopes nobody saw that. The paranoia is still there – she'll just find time to bite her nails later.

* * *

><p><em>Constructive criticism is always welcomed. I get self conscious when it comes to certain...elements. Ahem. Thanks again for reading, I hope it's worth it.<em>


	14. Metamorphosis

_Hello everyone! This was a very difficult chapter for me to write, and a lot of editing was involved as I'm connecting the story to where we currently are, to where our trajectory next is in the story. Consider this as a transitioning chapter. I only hope I've pulled it off!  
><em>

_Thanks again for the reviews._

_Songs on rotation during this chapter were The Asteroid Galaxy - Around The Bend, The Duke Spirit – Into The Fold, Caribou - Kali, and Altrice – Only What You Gave Me_

* * *

><p>Brittany has been waiting for Santana in the afternoon sun in the middle of desert for twenty minutes now, and for all intents and purposes – she's ready to leave.<p>

She wants to get out of her gross sweat-stained uniform, shower away the dust and grime, and also she just wants to see Santana back in Mulsanne as soon as possible.

Not much has changed since she picked Santana up from the hotel three days ago. Well, maybe a few things of note.

They have been getting breakfast together instead of dinner since Santana's call time changed temporarily to mid afternoon, which is totally fine with Brittany. She'll never say no to breakfast and she can't get enough of pancakes drowning in syrup. It was even worth it when she slurped too much, and it began to dribble down her chin, causing Santana to giggle and wipe it off with a napkin. The feeling of embarrassment lasted only fleetingly when Santana smiled at her like she was the only person in the café. The paranoia didn't however – in public she still watches people warily, scared that spies are going to tell Carl something.

Yesterday was the first time somebody came up to Santana to ask for a picture while she had been driving her around town. Santana hesitated at first, but didn't refuse the small brunette girl - who didn't look older than thirteen, wearing braces and a cute pink headband Brittany wanted for herself - cleared her throat and asked her if she was "_The_ Santana Lopez" in a timid manner. Brittany took the picture on the girl's smart-phone (She had to take it three times - she only really knows how to work her own phone, and even then Tina had to give her extensive lessons) and giggled as Santana seemed confused as to why the girl seemed to idolize her.

_"I'm nothing special," she had said as she waved at the girl leaving the café._

_"Yes you are." Brittany replied back, "You're the most specialist person I've ever met."_

The bashful smile Santana gave her before she went back to drinking her coffee made her giddy. She was so proud of her, and she made the decision that she was going to tell Santana that whenever she needed reminding.

She called that Robert Michaels person from the business card, too. He seemed interested in her (of course) while saying very little, and his gruff voice made Brittany picture a grizzly bear on the other side of the telephone. She hasn't thought about it too much, but she's kind of excited for the meeting he set up at his offices next week. Especially when he said bring her 'dance-wear'.

All of this, and the fact Santana has yet to turn up makes her think about the future. About everything she's wanted up until this point, and worry a little bit, too.

There's something in the air, the way her stomach gripes in apprehension, and the sweat the forms on her brow in the desert heat. Maybe it's the feeling of sadness beginning to overcome her, as the end of production is near, maybe it's the location, maybe it's the heat, or maybe it's those damn polyester pants that are making her sweat so much. If only she could put her finger on it.

A change is going to come. She feels it. She's just not sure she's entirely ready for it.

* * *

><p>It's not Santana she first spots walking down the driveway this morning - it's Tyler. He jogs down the driveway happily, in his navy Chino pants, and grey patterned V-neck shirt that hangs loosely from his body, with his holdall slung over his shoulders.<p>

"I could have just picked you up from your house on the way, you know." Brittany informs him as he jumps into the open passenger door of Mulsanne. Brittany winces as the car moves buoyantly before he pops his head out of the window, squinting in the morning sun.

"Santana wouldn't have bothered to inform you of that plan, Honey." He starts off laughingly, "So I decided to high-tail it over here instead, thanks to a cutie with a G-Wagon and an undercut."

"He's got nothing better to do now he's unemployed, so he thinks it's fine to inflict his torment on me." Comes from behind them.

Brittany's eyes survey the dark-haired girls face while she saunters down the driveway with the sunglasses perched atop her head. She talks a good game but Brittany doesn't entirely believe her. She smiles when Tyler pops his head out of the window - this time in indignation.

"It's not my fault the director felt the need to make my part nothing more than a glorified extra. Poor man is frighteningly insecure in his position."

Santana rolls her eyes, and surveys her nails.

Brittany finds herself staring at Tyler's non-flabby pecks as his V-neck shirt hangs loosely, giving Brittany the perfect view down his shirt.

It could be worse – he has a nice six-pack as far as Brittany can see. She angles her head to the right to get a better view.

"He's been fired from his next job." Santana explains distantly until she follows Brittany's gaze with a frown before turning her face away in disgust, "And put the jiggalo boobs away, Titty Caca."

Tyler wraps his shirt tightly around his body and quickly elaborates,

"I walked thank you very much, and Les agreed with my decision. The script was horrific anyway." His tone is flippant, and he throws his unoccupied hand out the window in a manner that is almost violent, "Anyway - now I can be a good little beard to my Sultana bee, and follow her around like the fantastic doting fake boyfriend I am! Besides, I want to get a better tan."

He grins and pops his head back into the car, and Brittany hears the sound of the electronic window being wound as she takes in Santana in her denim shorts, unlaced combo boots, and red button-up shirt that's unbuttoned just enough at the top to show her ample cleavage. Brittany thinks she wears these sexy things on purpose, now. She's definitely not complaining as she eyes her up like her favourite Popsicle.

Santana shakes her head in annoyance but the small smile beginning to shine on her face reads anything but.

Brittany smiles back widely.

"Hi."

"Hi."

There's a look in her eye that catches Brittany off-guard. It's haunting. But it disappears and Santana is smirking in her direction, pulling out the breakfast burrito from her bag.

"Back to these we go." Santana sing-songs.

Brittany grabs her wrists to pull her closer, takes the hat from her head and bends down to kiss Santana's cheek without a care of Tyler seeing. She feels safer in the courtyard of Santana's gated community. Maybe it's the secluded nature of the streets, or that fact that it always seems empty and enclosed, because the only parts of the houses you can actually see are the roofs - thanks to the high walls and bushes.

She opens the door and lets Santana get in before moving to get back into the car and setting off for the two-hour drive to the desert.

She's waiting for the gate to open when Tyler catches her gaze in the mirror, tongue firmly in cheek.

"Why don't I get a breakfast burrito? Hardly fair is it." He grins cheekily and catches Brittany's eyes again with a wink.

"We can share?" She suggests with a shrug.

Santana slides lower into her seat and pushes her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

"He can starve is what he can do."

"Drive-thru sausage and egg McMuffin it is!" Tyler exclaims with a clap of his hands.

Brittany nods and begins to drive.

"Did you bring the magazines?" Santana nudges Tyler as he places his own sunglasses atop his head. Brittany hears the smack of a face-palm.

"Starbucks and a quick trip to the grocery store it is!"

* * *

><p>It's lunchtime and she's sweltering in the midday heat. She looks around at the crew who move and set-up equipment and run around shouting into radios, and they don't seem to mind the heat. Although, they're in shorts and t-shirts the heat is the least of their problems. She's kind of envious of that.<p>

Maybe it's the stupid uniform. She _knows_ it's the stupid uniform. She takes off her jacket and rolls her sleeves up. She really hopes that the gross smell of onions is not coming from her, and begins to flap her arms like a chicken to fan her armpits. Tyler is on hand to spray her face with an Evian face spray. Brittany never really understood the need for those things when all they do is make your face wet and she could just buy a perfectly fine bottle of regular Evian water instead, but she's kind of seeing the point right now as it cools her face for a few short moments.

She and Tyler sit on the steps of Santana's trailer as she looks at the pretty pictures of the fashion magazine Santana bought for her. She bites a large strip out of a purple rainbow Twizzler she bought in large supply, and slurps her can of Mountain Dew through her red Twizzler-made straw.

In amidst the heat she's decided hanging around on a set all day is pretty boring. Sure the trailers all have free Wi-Fi but she didn't bring her laptop, and there's only so many times she can watch the same video she uploaded of Lord Tubbington taking a shower on Youtube before that gets a little stale (it's gone viral, not that she's going to brag to everyone about it or anything).

The last time she saw Santana she was jogging under an umbrella with rollers in her hair and people running after her like those Benny Hill shows her Dad loves – that was four hours ago.

She looks over Tyler's shoulder every now and then to see what has him laughing on his laptop. There's no video, but he surfs the same social network sights she does and the same Gossip Blogs that she looks at when she looks for Santana news.

She flips her magazine nosily when Tyler barks a laughs at whatever is funny on his laptop.

"You decided to come out to the desert to surf the Internet and be bored." She states blankly.

"…And get a tan!"

Brittany decides not to point out he's spent most of the day in the shade.

"The craft services are to die for, Brittany! Just wait until we go get lunch." He turns around and lightly taps her thigh, "Besides, I'm getting to catch up on all the Gossip! And keep Santana out of trouble."

"Isn't that usually what she has to do?"

Tyler holds his hands to his chest in an aggrieved fashion and Brittany almost giggles at his mock pout.

"Oh you hit me right where it hurts, but believe me, Santana has made plenty of bad decisions – a lot I probably don't even know about. I couldn't do all this just at home could I?"

Brittany thinks, _yes he probably could have_.

"So, do you have a Twitter?" He enquires with innocent eyes.

"That bird thing?"

He nods in confirmation.

Then yes - Brittany has a twitter.

She's about to type her handle in the search bar of Tyler's laptop (It's electroduckie by the way) when she notices a tall blonde haired woman with a headset walking towards them with a smile on her face. She looks familiar and as she gets closer, she realises it's that Alyson Michaels – the beautiful woman with the pearl coloured dress from the party.

Her hair is tied back and her clothes are casual, and Brittany finds the knots in her stomach begin to reoccur. She radiates power in her calmness and the smile on her face is free of make-up as she walks up to where she and Tyler sit on the stairs.

"You and social networks, Mr Carson!" She starts joyfully, "I'm surprised Lesley hasn't confiscated your phone or your computer at any point of her representing you."

"Oh, believe me she has tried!" He grins happily as he kisses both of the woman's cheeks, "I'm a PR disaster waiting to happen apparently."

Alyson throws her head back in laughter and Brittany finds herself staring as she and Tyler fall into easy conversation. In a sea of stressed crew-members - she's a beacon of calm in the madness.

Brittany gulps when the taller woman's deep, green eyes catch hers.

"Hello again, Miss Pierce!" The tone is friendly, "My husband mentioned you called his office. He's very excited to meet with you next week!"

Tyler elbows her in the ribs and makes a low '_ooh_' which sounds a lot like wonderment.

Of course he's excited, but Brittany can only blush and shrug her shoulders.

"Well, I've got some problems to solve." She hesitates before continuing, "Have you seen Santana? I need to speak with her."

Tyler's eyes narrow and shrugs.

"Haven't seen her since hair and make-up."

"I see." Alyson nods, and picks up the radio that begins to spew out words that Brittany doesn't understand, "Anyway, it was nice seeing you both!"

With that Alyson walks away and Brittany watches her go with a frown on her face.

"She's nice." She says passively.

"She really is, and she's so genuine too. She's kind of a rarity in this industry."

"Really?" Brittany questions.

Tyler nods.

"A woman in her position _and_ a decent person at that? It's practically unheard of!"

Brittany waits for him to continue.

"She worked wonders with Santana coming to terms with all of this," He moves his hand in a circular motion, "When she was her agent." Tyler's eyes grow faraway and a wistful smile grows on his face. The knots in Brittany's stomach are going to force her to see a doctor if they don't disappear soon, "I'd be jealous if I was twenty five present less successful than I currently am."

Brittany really ponders how _exactly _Alyson took Santana under her wing.

* * *

><p>"You look hot." Brittany blurts out. Tyler sniggers and slaps his hand to her mouth so she doesn't have to. Santana looks exasperated and flushed from the heat, seemingly missing Brittany's leer as she kicks the door to her trailer closed with her heel.<p>

Her brow is sweaty and Brittany catches droplets of sweat moving further and further down into the depths of her cleavage of her pretty beige coloured dress covered by a white bathrobe.

Brittany is pretty sure she is drooling.

"What?" Santana asks innocently.

Brittany practically melts as Santana looks up with her face scrunched in confusion.

Tyler waves her off, and pushes the cellophane covered plate towards Santana as she sits herself down in the booth that classifies as an eating area in her trailer.

"That gay ging-er PA with his obvious straight-crush on you brought your food for you. Don't worry I was on hand to make sure it wasn't tampered with."

Brittany continues to stare in Santana's direction as she takes a large gulp from the water bottle she brought in with her. She watches as she swallows with her head back, as her throat bobbles. She wonders what it would be like to kiss her neck, suck on her pulse point, feel her heartbeat quicken…

A kick from under the table jolts her out of her reverie. She blinks, shakes her head and catches Tyler smirking from behind his hand. She sticks her tongue out and picks up her plastic fork to dig into her chilli con carne.

He's so going on her 'list'.

"My make-up is literally melting off my face!" Santana exclaims as she wipes her brow with a tissue leaving a brown residue on the tissue that looked a lot like the gross fake-tan Brittany has to wear when she has to do ballroom dancing exhibitions. She shudders at the thought of having to apply it. "The trail of make-up artists following me around like I'm the Pied Piper is _not_ a cute look."

"Alyson was looking for you by the way." Tyler says around a mouthful of food.

Santana rolls her eyes and stabs a small piece of chicken on her plate with her fork.

"Great."

Tyler shakes his head and looks unimpressed.

Santana looks down to her plate with her brow creased before catching Brittany's eyes with a hesitant smile, and her arm resting on the table.

"You enjoying set life, Britt?"

She shrugs back in return and swallows the large mouthful of chilli con carne.

"It's kind of boring."

"So much waiting around." Santana laughs and Brittany thinks it's the best sound she's heard all day.

Tyler smiles encouragingly at her.

"I followed Brittany here on Twitter today." He starts, holding up his phone.

"You did?" Santana asks mildly impressed as she looks between the two.

"She followed me back, too."

Santana smirks and continues to eat.

"Sucks for, Britt. I'm a much better follow."

Tyler huffs and points the blunt end of his plastic fork at Santana.

"I'll have you know her followers increased by a few hundred when I mentioned her in a tweet, actually. Also as if – Gary has his poor, tortured intern of the moment tweet for you when you've got something to promote." His tone is haughty and his face smug.

She just rolls her eyes.

"You make it sound like such an achievement."

He looks at them as if the answer was obvious. Brittany thinks Tyler looks like he's about to start a rant about the pros of connecting with 'The Crazies' on Twitter.

Which he does.

Brittany begins to tune out when she feels Santana hand drop next to hers onto the booth. She grabs her hand under the table and slowly traces patterns with her thumb on the back of her hand.

She doesn't imagine the squeeze of fingers lacing themselves into her own as they both continue to eat their meals single-handed.

Brittany thinks the grip Santana has on her hand feels like a lifeline.

* * *

><p>It's still the afternoon and Brittany and Tyler are sitting in those cool, personalized deck chairs she always associates with Hollywood and movies. Tyler tells Brittany that it's called 'video village', which she doesn't really understand because when she thinks of villages she thinks of the Shire in Lord of the Rings and has yet to see a cottage or a Hobbit. It's full of monitors and big stacks of important things with wires coming out of both ends - Brittany would be terrified to even touch. Turns out those chairs are no better than her Dad's set of collapsible camping chairs stored in the garage back home.<p>

She holds the headset some blonde haired man gave her (who practically drooled all over as he handed it over to her) close to her ears and listens to the rustle of the microphone being placed onto Santana off-camera.

When make-up recalled Santana back after lunch, she noticed her grow silent and retreat into herself. She wanted to check if she was okay, but there was no time when she left the trailer.

She begins to understand why as she watches Santana come into view on the monitor.

Her face is bruised and the make-up people have done something to her face to make it look swollen. Brittany's stomach begins to churn, and it makes her feel uneasy at how life-like it looks. There's something about Santana's demeanour on camera that Brittany has noticed has changed. Her shoulders are hunched; her eyes are to the ground.

She doesn't really understand why Santana's hair is curled like she's from a 50s movie, or why her pretty beige dress from before is now in tatters either. She's like a different person now, as some greying older man with a red baseball cap and goatee gives her instructions Brittany can't hear.

"Do you know what this film is about?" She whispers over to Tyler, her eyes still glued to the screen when a balding man comes into view holding a clapper holds it in front of the camera to shoot a take.

"Not even a clue, Honey. Santana never told me." He seems kind of horrified.

The take seems to be a long one, full of sand, and haphazard walking, and Santana looking scared and terrified, beaten and broken. Brittany doesn't like it and she begins to feel sick. Tyler grabs her hand.

"Maybe we should-" He trails off into silence.

When a group of men crowd around Santana in a circle, and begin to kick and punch her, Brittany has to walk away to remind herself that none of this is real.

Violence has always scared her and upset her. When fights would break out in McKinley High she'd cover her ears and scrunch her eyes up tight praying for it to be over so she could walk to class. Seeing something like that being filmed for people's enjoyment just disturbed her and left her chest hurting in sadness. She traces patterns in the sand with her foot trying to eliminate the scenes from her mind.

* * *

><p>Tyler finds her back on the steps of Santana's trailer not long after she left. She's picking at the last remnants of nail polish off her nails while she tries not to think about seeing Santana like that.<p>

Why did they have to go watch that scene out of all of the other boring ones they've shot today?

He sits down beside her and wraps a strong arm around her shoulder and squeezes tightly.

"It's not real." He says softly.

"I don't like violence."

"Yeah." He whispers with a tone filled with sadness.

He pushes a strand of her hair fallen from her ponytail, "I should have asked Santana what type of scenes she was shooting today. I'm sorry, Honey."

Brittany's not exactly sure what he should be sorry for but it was nice to hear anyway.

* * *

><p>Santana is late. Sixty-three minutes late to be exact, now. She's never usually late, or if she is she at least texts Brittany. She hasn't and she's slightly worried. It also doesn't help that she's desperate to leave and get out of this uniform.<p>

"Should I go look for her?" She asks Tyler as she anxiously bites her nails.

Tyler looks up at her nervously.

"Maybe. I mean, should _I_? She's not answering her phone." He shrugs helplessly, "She's been avoiding me since this afternoon." He mutters.

She moves to tilt her head, only to feel her head is hatless and is probably still left on the bed in Santana's trailer. At least now she has a reason to look for her. She nods resolutely, and tells Tyler to shut the car door.

"I'm going to go look for her."

He nods.

"I'll be here then – waiting."

She takes the short journey back to the trailer area where crew-members are beginning to pack up camera equipment and monitors into the trucks.

As she gets closer to the door of Santana's trailer, she hears hushed tones of somebody talking, it doesn't sound exactly fun so Brittany decides to round the corner to see what's happening.

She spies Santana back in her own clothes, and a taller blonde-haired woman she knows is Alyson talking closely in the alleyway created between the trailers.

Santana is leaned up against the back of the trailer, the dark, scary make-up still applied to her face. It turns Brittany's stomach seeing it up close.

Brittany walks backwards to cover the corner and watches them from afar. She'd be such a great spy.

Alyson frowns and crosses her arms in front of her.

"I just wanted to talk to you. See how you are." Her voice is hushed to keep away prying ears.

Brittany thinks about walking away, but she's rooted to the spot and she's more than a little interested.

"I just want to talk to you. I'm worry about you. Especially after-"

"I'm fine." Santana interrupts with a hard edge to her tone, "You can leave now."

Alyson looks sorrowful, like a puppy that's just been kicked, Brittany thinks.

"I miss you." It's said so quietly Brittany thinks she may have imagined it.

Santana throws her head back and snorts.

"Right." Her tone is so bitter Brittany flinches the same way Alyson does.

The taller woman just looks even sadder.

"No matter what, I'll always be here for you." Her voice breaks. She pauses before she continues, "Please, remember that." She stresses. Her plea is full of so much warmth; it rips at Brittany's insides.

Santana's eyes are glued to the floor and her arms are wrapped around herself like a defensive barrier.

Alyson softens, and brings her hand to Santana's still faux-bruised cheek. Brittany thinks it looks like a move that isn't new either of them.

"I hate seeing you like this." Her tone is full of yearning. It's intimate and she doesn't miss the way Santana leans into her touch, either.

Brittany decides to slowly move backwards, and wait on the steps of Santana's trailer. She feels guilty enough listening to a conversation that she was not supposed to hear – and maybe she's just a little bit jealous. Just a teeny tiny bit.

Alyson's stalls as she rounds the corner and spots Brittany sitting on the steps. She looks drained, and Brittany bites her lips for the cause.

"Hello again, Brittany." Her smile doesn't reach her eyes but her tone is bright and friendly. Brittany waves blankly in return.

Brittany smiles politely and surveys Alyson as she stands with her hands on her hips smiling down towards her. Her eyes catch the rings on her wedding finger as she starts to spin them. It's almost like a nervous tick.

"I hope you enjoyed your day on set." Alyson continues in her airy manner. "It's always a better experience when you have friends to pass the time with."

"It was really hot." She replies blankly.

Alyson laughs and nods. Her eyes begin to wonder over Brittany sitting on the steps, appreciatively. It makes her feel kind of strange under the scrutiny and narrows her eyes.

Then she clasps her hands together in front of her and lets out a lot hum of appreciation.

"You're a nice girl, Brittany."

It sounds a lot like approval.

Her mood sobers instantly when Santana rounds the corner and approaches the stairs with a pack of make-up wipes in her hand. The make-up has gone from her face. Brittany inwardly sighs a breathe of relief.

"Well, I was just leaving." Alyson speaks before Santana can talk.

"Bye, Brittany." She eyes Santana with that look Brittany saw from the party, all sad and pretty, and reserved just for Santana, "Santana."

Santana's lips press into a thin line and her jaw clenches.

Brittany scuffs her shoe on the dirt floor. She watches the dust she kicks off, allowing it to settle before speaking to Santana.

"You didn't show up when you were supposed to." Her tone is sallow as she dusts off her pants.

Santana eyes are guarded as she pulls the curls she has worn all day into a messy ponytail and shrugs.

"I got caught up." She muffles between the hairpins she holds between her lips.

She nods. Brittany feels Santana has shut down again which causes her chest to tighten in sadness.

"That make-up looked scary real. Like the kind of real you don't want to face because then it makes you have to face the actual realness of things like that happening which just makes me sad. Like a sad panda."

Santana frowns as she finishes putting her hair up, and fixes her attention towards Brittany. She licks her index finger and pulls the finger down the side of her cheek, picking up the residual make up left there.

She holds the finger up showing the dark purple marked pad.

"See?" She says gruffly, "Scary real - not the real, real."

Brittany sighs and Santana lets her hand fall back to her side.

"Can I get my hat from your trailer?" Brittany asks.

Santana shrugs, yet again.

"Go right ahead."

She enters the trailer and spots her hat instantly on the bed, thankful she wouldn't have to pay to get another one - because those hats are expensive and Brittany would rather spend that money on candy and coffee.

She turns round and sees Santana leaning against the door staring at the ground intently. As Brittany moves closer, she doesn't stir.

"Are you okay?" She asks quietly, keeping her hands behind her back to resist the temptation of touching the dark-haired girl in front of hair.

Her eyes snap to her own – they look vacant; _like there's nobody home,_ Brittany thinks.

"I'm fine."

When they return back to the car Tyler watches Santana carefully as she gets into Mulsanne. As they pull away from the lot, he wraps Santana into a hug and whispers words to Santana, Brittany can't hear.

She turns the radio on, and keeps her eyes on the road as she hears the occasional whispered words from Tyler.

He falls asleep soon after.

They've been driving for forty five minutes when Brittany hears the sound of a prescription bottle being popped, and it's contents being poured into a hand.

She watches in the rear-view mirror as Santana throws her head back and desperately swallows whatever pills she had in her mouth.

Santana's eyes catch her own in the mirror. They're wild and full of anger, which quickly turn to shame when they catch her own.

When Santana falls asleep, Brittany turns the radio volume down and plays I-Spy with herself. She gets bored after ten minutes but it's better than thinking about the ache in her chest or the girl seated behind her.

* * *

><p>Brittany drops off Tyler first before taking Santana home. He invited them both to come in but Santana just shrugged and Brittany didn't feel comfortable going back there if Santana wasn't going either. He tried to get Santana to speak with him privately but she refused with a shake of her head, and before Tyler walks away - he gives Brittany a wistful look and the universal signal for 'call me'.<p>

She thinks they might be friends now. Which she's kind of fine with.

When she gets back into Mulsanne her eyes flicker to the rear-view mirror to watch Santana fleetingly. Her posture is stiff as she looks out the window with guarded eyes. She sighs and sets the car to drive.

There's little sound but the low volume of the radio.

She decides to switch radio stations and Jessie J's Domino begins to play. She can't help but smile. She turns up the volume louder.

"I like this song." She smiles as she taps her fingers against the wheel as she drives.

Her head bops happily as the song breaks into the chorus, "It makes me think of you."

She doesn't look back as she begins to hum along to the song.

* * *

><p>"Back home once again, Miss Lopez." Brittany says with a big grin, tipping her hat as waits for Santana to get out of the opened door.<p>

She doesn't. Brittany bends over the open door and sees Santana staring at the back of the drivers seat.

"Santana," She speaks carefully, quietly, "Are you okay?"

Santana nods dumbly in response. Brittany frowns in worry.

"Then why aren't you getting out of the car?"

Santana seems to snap out of her reverie and shake her head. Her eyes seem somewhere else far away from the hills of Hollywood.

"We're back home, Santana."

She slowly gets out of the car and falls into Brittany. She grabs a fistful of her shirt, their faces close enough to touch.

"Do you want to come inside?" She asks huskily.

It sounds a lot like an invitation to sexier times. It sends ripples down Brittany's spine and all she wants to do is follow her inside. She wants to, she really does.

She looks deep into Santana's eyes as the low light of the street-lights reflects in her eyes, looking for answers. Her eyes are unfocused and give nothing away, which causes the ache in Brittany's chest to deepen. Her movements are laboured and her breath is heavy.

She shakes her head.

"I think – I think I'm just going to go home." Her voice is frayed around the edges.

Santana kisses her cheek. It's slow, and purposeful and Brittany turns her face so her mouth meets her own. She's about to wrap Santana up in her arms and deepen the kiss but Santana pushes her away at the shoulders with a gasp, and walks away with her head down.

"See you later, Britt Britt."

Brittany swallows thickly as she watches Santana walk slowly up her driveway.

She's so confused about everything. She's exhausted, drained and still all gross from the desert. All she wants to do is go home and watch One Tree Hill with a cup of her Mom's home-made hot chocolate and sleep. Her head aches and her heart does too.

She recomposes herself, and gets back into Mulsanne to make the journey back to her apartment.

When she gets home twenty minutes later, she finds nothing but leftover Chinese take-out and a note from Tina telling her to vacuum the apartment.

She rips the note up, checks on Lord Tubbington (there's a cigarette butt in the bathroom - yet again - which she knows is from him) and falls into bed instead.

As she turns over in the bed and checks the clock for the fifth time in an hour, she's begins to think she's made a mistake coming back to this emptiness.

Because that feeling of change, that feeling enveloping her body hasn't gone away – it's only grown stronger.

When the tears begin to fall she doesn't let them stop.

* * *

><p><em>Next chapter - the unravelling begins.<em>

_Thanks for reading and reviewing, and constructive criticism is always welcomed. I'm going to try my utmost to have an update by the end of the week._


	15. Cafe Noir Precipice

_This would have been up a lot earlier but lets just say I was hospitalised for 'exhaustion' for a hot minute. Go figure..._

__Lots of dialogue in this, hope it doesn't disappoint too much.__

_On behalf of Lord Tubbington, I'd just like to say he strongly denies taking ecstasy and it will not be mentioned in this story out of respect to his character. Thank you for understanding._

_Songs on rotation this chapter were, Broken Social Scene – Pitter Patter Goes My Heart, Waldeck - Memories, Spoon – I Turn My Camera On, Rebecca and Fiona – Bullets, Deadmau5 - I Remember.  
><em>

* * *

><p>She awakes early morning to the buzz of her phone on her bedside. It's not her alarm, but a text.<p>

_From: Santana Lopez! 6:12AM  
>I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday. It's not fair on you. I'll see you Monday. <em>

Brittany doesn't reply, but instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, she decides to get up and do what she does best - dance.

* * *

><p>Her lyrical jazz class is over, and she's put everything into it. Her limbs ache and her body is drenched in sweat from the exertion of her dancing. She's connected with the music, the feeling of being one with her movements, and letting everything go. She's too exhausted to make conversation with the familiar faces that feel like strangers to her these days. It's amazing how much can change in a few months.<p>

It's not her favourite class by any means. She likes Pop Jazz and Hip-Hop more because they're fun and enjoyable, but today she feels like she managed to find something beyond a perfect saut de chat, transitioning to a perfect pirouette, to transitioning to a perfect arabesque. Her heart feels light and her body is exhausted but she feels free and airy. She's free of worry, and while that may reappear when she leaves the studio - she fine as she is.

She's about to leave the studio when her name is called by the raspy tones of Sonia – the teacher of the class.

She likes Sonia; she's one of her favourite teachers if anyone cared to ask. She looks like a Punk – her black hair is shaved, has so many piercings Brittany wonders if she's ever gotten caught on a door handle, and wears clothing that makes her look like she hasn't washed for days (she smells like roses so that's okay for Brittany). Her hazel eyes are fiery and passionate. She walks with a limp - her promising career put to an untimely end after a car accident but she's never sad and is always so optimistic, it makes Brittany happy just to be around her sometimes.

She walks over to Sonia with her bag thrown over her shoulder, and wipes her face with a towel. She feels kind of gross.

"Pull up a place on the floor." Sonia says with a smirk.

Brittany slumps down against the mirror and straightens her legs across the floor.

"Did you enjoy class this morning?" Sonia asks breezily as she takes the CD out of the sound system and packs up her things.

Brittany nods and takes a gulp of her Gatorade.

Sonia looks on thoughtfully and sits down next to her on the floor.

"There's something different about the way you dance now, Brittany."

Brittany wonders if it's a bad thing, but as she surveys Sonia doing the same back to her, she doesn't think it is.

"What is it?" She wonders aloud.

Sonia tilts her head and continues to look on at Brittany. Her full lips are pressed into a thin line. After a few moments she lets her hands fall into her lap, which echoes finitely around the room.

"You've always perfected the moves, and danced with joy. You're technical precision is some of the best I've ever seen, but now you dance with the feeling and intensity of someone who doesn't just dance for themselves anymore." There's silence in the room as Sonia looks for the right words. Brittany crosses her arms in anticipation, "From the words of Mark Twain – _'Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth__.'_ In my class I want my students to dance with abandonment, freedom, but love is the overriding theme of all. Dance like you've loved and love, and that's exactly what you're doing. You're beautiful to watch."

Brittany nods absently as she takes in Sonia's words, not knowing exactly what to say. Maybe love has changed her after all.

"There's a showcase I'm having next month." Sonia continues nonchalantly. The smile on her face grows, "I was wondering if you'd like to be my principle dancer?"

Brittany shrugs. Nailed it.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>She walks into the apartment and leans her head against the closed door and basks in the silence of the room. She can't stop the giggle beginning to rise and she lets it bubble out softly. Just as she's about to push herself away from the door, her phone starts to ring.<p>

She doesn't recognize the number as she presses the answer button and pushes the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"_Meet me outside of your apartment block in twenty minutes_."

The subtle southern accented voice sounds familiar, but better be safe than sorry.

"Am I gunna get stabbed?" Brittany bites her lip in worry, almost tempted to hang up, "Tina says not to meet strangers in shadowy places and alleyways because you could get stabbed in this neighbourhood."

"_St- What? Who on earth is, Tina? No, Brittany! It's North Hollywood, not Compton! I want you to meet me outside your apartment block in twenty minutes_."

"Why?"

"_So we can go for coffee_."

"Okay…"

"_I've been doing some reconnaissance and have some information I think you'd..."_

"I don't know what that means." She interrupts.

"_Ugh! Brittany! You're ruining the ambiance of how I planned this conversation would go when I started this phonecall!"_

There's a deep intake of breath that's blown directly in to the phone.

"_It's Tyler." _

She knew it.

"Why can't you talk like a normal person on a telephone? I'm very confused."

Brittany hears a very loud groan on the other end of the phone.

"_Brittany, I would like it very much if we could go out for coffee and brunch today, and I will pick you up outside of your apartment block in twenty minutes."_

"Okay. Wait, how you know where I live? Have you been, like, stalking me?"

"_No, but there is an app for that." _

"I don't get it."

"_Santana's Dad told me, okay! Now, hurry up and get ready. This phone call has taken at least three years off my life expectancy." _

Brittany hangs up without saying goodbye, and goes to get changed.

* * *

><p>Brittany purposely shows up ten minutes later than arranged, after deciding to get her second shower in an hour (the dance studio down the street has cool automatic ones she always finds interesting to get showered in) and throw her hair up in a fancy bun with butterfly clips, and a cute black &amp; white striped headband. It totally goes with her cute black &amp; white ankle socks.<p>

It turns out it was in vain because as she leaves the entrance of her apartment building, there's no Tyler, and no car in sight. She decides to wait by the wall and pretend to play on her phone the way other people do when they're waiting for someone.

She's wrapped up in deleting Tina's essay texts when she hears the horn of a car, causing her to jump and almost drop her phone. Thanks to her pinpoint reflexes, she catches it effortlessly.

It's a candy apple red BMW 6 Series Coupe that cruises to a stop on the roadside. She's impressed. They have two at the garage in silver, but they're only available for leasing. Brittany's never had the chance to drive them - not that she wants to anyway because Carl says they're the car for 'assholes'.

Tyler's okay though.

"Brittany!" Comes from the open passenger-side window.

He's wearing a pair of black Ray Ban sunglasses, a brown fedora hat, that's tipped forward in Bugsy Malone-esque fashion, and a brown raincoat to go along with it.

Brittany thinks he looks kind of ridiculous.

Her white t-shirt, pink shorts with black braces looks so much cuter.

"Aren't you, like, hot?" She questions with a frown as she bends over to look at him in the car.

"Why thank you, Brittany." He smile is saccharine and his eyes are narrowed, "Now get in the car."

* * *

><p>Brittany squints at Tyler eyeing the few people in the café warily. His arms are folded tightly to his chest, clutching a brown folder. The red-haired waitress who had taken their order had eyed them both aloofly as she puts their drink orders down on the table. Brittany attempts to apologise with the power of thought.<p>

Brittany kind of thinks he looks like a crazy person.

"You look like a crazy person." She observes blankly.

He sends her a sharp look.

"I look cool. Like Bogart-in-'The-Big-Sleep' cool."

Brittany doesn't care to ask what that is, and shakes her head vehemently.

"You're wearing a raincoat on a bright, sunny day. It's not cool."

Tyler dramatically shrugs off the coat and hangs it on the back of his chair.

"Ugh, fine! I'm keeping the hat on, my hair is not having a good day."

He throws the file down onto the table between them.

"What's this?" She asks as she eyes the brown folder warily.

"Reconnaissance." He replies back simply.

Brittany doesn't understand what that means, but she likes the sound of the word. It sounds important.

"I don't know what that is."

Tyler pushes himself forward and lowers his voice conspiratorially,

"Well, I was trolling the Internet and my personal records last night for some information to share with you."

Brittany thinks Tyler looks far too excited for just looking on the Internet. It's not like she doesn't do that herself, and she doesn't need to dress up like Colombo to do it.

"And since Santana has gone away with her Dad to San Fran for the weekend…"

Her interest is piqued.

"She has?"

Brittany tries to regain composure as Tyler smirks at her for being far too keen.

"Yep. I told her Dad about yesterday, and he decided to take her out of the city for the weekend instead of just hanging out at Lopez Towers like they usually do."

His phone vibrates on the table, which makes them both flinch. "Speak of the devil," He mutters. He fiddles with his phone before throwing the device back down onto the table.

"Look, obviously it's not for me to tell you Santana's life story because firstly – I only know what she has told me – which is not a lot, and secondly - it's not my story to tell. But, I can give you a few things which may help you understand her a little bit more."

Brittany's not entirely sure why he's doing this. Which is not to say she's not grateful of the man sitting across from her drinking his vanilla late with a chaser of peach iced tea as he watches her, watching him with a face free of judgement.

"Why are you doing this?" Her voice is dubious and her eyes are narrowed.

His eyes soften and he grabs her hand over the table. His voice is strong and caring,

"I just want her to be happy, so I'm going to try and get you guys to communicate, because Santana is a terrible communicator."

Tyler settles into his chair, looking a lot less crazy.

He picks up the folder and takes out two sheets of paper.

"I found two press releases about the film."

He looks at Brittany in encouragement to read whatever is on the paper. So she does.

_**The Revelations Of Spraberry Trend**__  
>20<em>_th__ Century Fox/Relativity  
>A horrific gas fire on a West Texas Oil Field connects four stories from survivors of the accident, each character dealing with love, loss, regret and life's harsh realities in 1950's Texas.<br>Filming will be primarily held at 20__th__ Century FOX Studios, California, with location shoots at Mojave Desert, California, and Breckenridge, Texas.  
>Directed by Joel Allen<br>Written by Arnold Whitby  
>Staring: Jeff Bridges, Santana Lopez, Julie Walters, Sam Worthington<em>

Brittany had already read that when she first got the job. At the time she wasn't overly interested in it because well – the words in the sentences were kind of ominous and it seemed like there was little room for fluffiness, and Brittany likes fluffy.

She turns over the page and moves to the next one. This time it's an article with a picture of Santana, Brittany has never seen before. Her hair is shorter and her eyes are half-lidded, looking angrily down the lens of the camera. Brittany finds it sexy.

_**Santana Lopez signs on to lead The Revelations **__**Of Spraberry Trend.**__  
>LOS ANGELES: Spraberry Trend has found their leading lady. Star of the Upcoming REVERT, Santana Lopez has signed on to be part of the eagerly anticipated Joel Allen flick, 'The Revelations <em>_Of Spraberry Trend'__.  
>Lopez, who recently finished filming 'The Hard Parade', will play Maria, a fierce but feminine Mexican immigrant who roughnecks on the male dominated oil fields as a driller, trying to keep her double-life a secret. Not only does she have to face the racism of 50s America, but the sexism prevalent in the period.<br>Lopez, who is represented by ICM/Leonard, joins the already star-studded cast of Jeff Bridges, Sam Worthington and Julie Walters, with more cast additions TBA.  
>Production gets underway in Los Angeles next month, before finishing in Texas. <em>

"Can I keep these?"

"Of course you can, Honey!" He says as he folds up the paper into four quarters and pushes it towards her. "Anyway that's her role, what it fails to mention is that the Maria likes the ladies."

Brittany's brow creases in confusion.

"Doesn't everybody like the ladies?"

Tyler laughs and nods before fixing her with an exasperated look. Brittany thinks his eyes look clearer than crystal.

"It means, I…" He looks around shiftily, "_Acquired_ the script and read it. Let's just say the role hits a little close to home, if you know what I'm sayin'."

He looks at her pointedly, willing her to understand, and she thinks that she does.

"Oh."

She stews on it for a while, biting on the straw of her milkshake trying to make sense of everything.

She thinks back to the scene she and Tyler watched. It makes her stomach turn at thought. It occurs to her what Tyler means.

"Did she...?" She starts hesitantly, too nervous to say the words out loud.

Tyler's nod is all the confirmation she needs.

"Everything began to fall into place for me a lot easier after reading the script." He says evenly before continuing more flippantly, "Fantastic little script it is. I'm envious, I'm stuck in rom-com hell!"

Brittany wishes it would fall in to place a lot more simply for her too. She feels dizzy from the circles she's not running in.

"Do you know what happened?"

He presses his lips into a thin line and takes a while to respond.

"I think you need to hear that from Santana." His toned is clipped. Brittany is not sure if it's from his knowledge or because he doesn't exactly know the whole story himself either.

She thinks she just saw Tweedy Pie she's that dizzy now.

Tyler pulls out a small image from the folder and smiles warmly.

"I found a picture for you."

Brittany trails her finger over the picture of Santana and Tyler. His hair is long and shaggy and he looks a lot leaner, but Santana looks like a completely different person. Her hair is shorter – to her shoulders – and the dark circles under eyes give her a sickly pallor. Brittany has always admired her figure but her clothes are baggy and her wrists look thin enough to snap. She looks so haunted and beautiful, and it churns Brittany's insides.

It just looks so familiar, and Brittany wishes she could place it.

"Aren't we cute?" He clasps his hands together cheerfully, but his eyes are mixed with things Brittany is too tired to work out.

Brittany has to turn the picture over before looking back again to Tyler, who gives her a look of sympathy.

"How old was she here?" Her voice sounds a lot stronger than she expected.

She takes a sip of her milkshake to calm her, and awaits his answer.

"Eighteen. I'd just turned twenty-one."

"She doesn't look very well." Brittany says sombrely.

Tyler looks forlorn for a fleeting moment before brightening with a smile on his face. It's wan and tired.

"That was the day she initiated conversation with me for the first time. She insulted my 'perm'. She hates being around people." He laughs softly. It's hollow and his voice falters, "Except you. She loves being around you."

Warmth pools in Brittany's stomach and she tries to fight the smile that appears on her lips. She has questions to ask and this is important to her.

"Can I as you a question?"

"Of course, Honey."

"How did Santana meet Gary?"

"Well," He starts with a smirk, "She was kind of a natural at this whole acting thing" His tone is apathetic as he moves his hand around lazily, "Although she hated the warm-up games and would purposely show up late to avoid them!" He laughs good-naturedly obviously reminiscing, "But she was so much better than everyone else there. We knew it; the acting coaches knew it, so it was nothing unexpected when it came to the three week showcase - where all the top agencies are regularly invited to - Santana was really the one they were interested in. But Santana wasn't interested and declined every offer. I mean every. Single. One. I remember Alyson coming around a few times and Santana just kept shutting her down. She'd been there for three months when l_ovely_ Gary showed up one day – he took her to dinner. Then the next thing I know she's signed to his publicity firm and Alyson is her agent."

Brittany is rapt with the story as she rests her head on her head.

"Wow."

"I know right? I would have been on cloud nine! But she barely cracked a smile."

"What changed her mind?"

"I'm not entirely sure." He starts with his brow creased, as he begins fiddling with the corners of the file, "He's a very influential publicist in this town, and when he wants something he gets it. I think it was his power to make things disappear and he gave her an offer she couldn't refuse."

He smiles ruefully.

"That's the thing about Hollywood, Honey – we're all running from something."

"I'm not." Brittany replies simply.

Because she isn't, she's not hiding anything about her past, she didn't have a bad time in school, she's hot, talented, and she's way better than just staying in Lima, making good money because everybody wants to be in her classes. She can be something here, too.

His eyes find hers and he gives her a genuine smile.

Brittany fiddles with the straw of her strawberry milkshake, trying to find the nonchalance to ask more questions.

"So," She clears her throat and brushes the stray hairs back behind her headband, "How does Alyson fit into this?"

"Santana was obviously not ready for 'mass consumption' just yet, she wasn't ready for it either. So Alyson nurtured her, so to speak. She put all her focus onto Santana. She'd drive her to auditions, take her to meetings, lessons, appointments, feed her, hell they even moved in together for a while."

Brittany chokes on her strawberry milkshake.

"They did?"

"Like I said before – she killed her with kindness. Santana was lucky she had someone like her put so much faith into her. Most people don't give a shit in this industry." Brittany doesn't mistake the bitterness in his voice, "All they're after is instant gratification, and making money. The pressure to just exist in this industry is so very hard."

Brittany can't help but wonder where her Dad was in all of this.

"Where was Mr. Lopez?"

Tyler shrugs.

"He was around trying to get to know his daughter. He took six month sabbatical away from his duties. The man is a very successful doctor. He travels the world for conferences and was in the process of getting a private practice he invested into up and running in the city. He was doing the best he could."

Brittany frowns into her milkshake.

"Were they ever together?"

"Alyson and Santana?" Brittany nods, "I've had my suspicions," He admits sheepishly, scratching his chin looking to find the right words, "Santana always denied it, but she was getting around like the best of 'em." He grins cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows in innuendo. "Aly's kind of the reason we're the lovely fake couple that we are, actually."

"Really?"

He nods.

"She was the one who gave Gary the idea we should couple up instead of looking around the agency for less attractive boys who are desperate to break into the industry. It's working - not only are we getting to spend more time together, we're in the gossip rags and blogosphere more than ever!"

His eyes are filled with glee, and Brittany can't help but be amused.

"Although, that was one awkward meeting we had." He says absently as he finishes the last of his vanilla latte.

"Santana was being blackmailed." He explains blithely. Tyler rolls his eyes before continuing, "Some basic bitch thought outing Santana would be the best way to make a quick buck."

Tyler looks sour, and Brittany still doesn't understand why they seem so scared of just being themselves.

Brittany watches as he pushes the cup to one side and pulls the tall glass of iced tea in front of him and begins to trace absent circles around the glass.

"When did they stop living together?" She asks from behind her milkshake.

"About a year ago. Alyson had left the agency to go to start working with a production company under FOX, and married Robert - the dreamiest, dreamboat agent. My heartthrob status was on the rise big time then, and Santana was starting to get meetings with the studios."

There's a piece of information Brittany finds interesting more than most.

"Alyson has only been married for a year?"

Tyler nods slowly.

"But her and the dreamboat have been together for years, I think."

The red-haired waitress comes back, this time delivering their food, and interrupting their conversation. As Brittany begins to dig into her Cinnamon French Toast, she still thinks she's missing pieces of the puzzle. Pieces she knows only Santana can fill.

The conversation is a lot less heavy during their food, and Brittany thinks she likes it a lot better that way.

* * *

><p>"Why is Emmett from Supercool sitting on our couch?"<p>

They had been watching a Jersey Shore marathon well into the dying embers of afternoon when Tina walks through the door with grocery bags and a large bouquet of flowers in her hands.

Brittany felt the need to make a good impression on Tyler when decided to invite himself over to her apartment, so she helps Tina pack away the grocery bags instead of ignoring her existence like she usually does.

Brittany's confused slightly for a moment, trying to understand what Tina's referring to, until she follows her eye-line to find Tyler munching on a handful of popcorn, engrossed in The Situation drama on display.

"I invited him." She replies evenly and shrugs.

Tina squees worse than a Bieber fangirl and clasps her hand tightly around Brittany's bicep.

"Are you dating Emmett from Supercool?" Her voice is quiet but loud enough to travel round the room like a stage whisper.

Brittany winces before she throws Tina (who hair is now a shade of pink) a sour look and pries her hand from her bicep.

"His name is Tyler and no – we're friends."

"And who may this attractive lady be, Brittany?" Comes Tyler's voice.

Brittany whips her head round to Tyler on the other side of the unit, who has moved from his place on the couch. His hair is now perfectly coiffed and the hat left on the table (thanks to borrowing copious amounts of Brittany's hair products he's promised to replace). Tina looks like a deer in the headlights, and Tyler is doing his dreamy heartthrob routine for Tina. He smiles widely, with his perfect teeth on show. Brittany feels proud of herself she now feels immune.

Tina on the other hand looks like she's about to salivate all over the linoleum of the kitchen floor.

Brittany finds it embarrassing.

"This is Tina, she's my room mate and friend. She's cool, I guess."

Tyler takes her hand and brings it up to his mouth to kiss.

Tina practically melts and Brittany can feel her Cinnamon French Toast beginning to regurgitate.

"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you, Tina." He says smoothly. His voice is like velvet and Brittany tries really hard not to side-eye the both of them.

Tina continues to look dumbly on and Brittany hopes she doesn't ask how they came to meet. She may have signed stuff not to say stuff, but she is a sucky liar and Tina can sniff them out quicker than bloodhound on the hunt.

"Brittany and I were culturing ourselves on Jersey Shore reruns." Tyler continues with a twinkle in his eye, "Care to join us?"

Brittany hopes Tina says no.

"I would love to!"

Tina elbows Brittany in the ribs as she puts pasta into the cupboard. She doesn't grumble, but her interest in retiring to her room and annoying Lord Tubbington has increased by at least fifty per cent.

* * *

><p>It's well into the evening now and they're no longer on Jersey Shore, but have now moved onto some TV show about Dance Moms (her Mom was never that pushy when she was taking classes as a child) Tina had been raving about for an hour before deciding to watch it.<p>

Brittany was on popcorn refill duty and returns with three bowls of fresh popcorn for them, while Tina decides to keep watching the adverts instead of switching between channels. Brittany thinks the mooneyes she gives Tyler (who is way too amused to not be enjoying it) are the biggest reason.

She retakes her seat in the middle of the couch and slumps forward. She's taking a mouthful of popcorn when a trailer for Santana's recent film appears on the television. It's the movie she got to go to the premier to see. The one she didn't really understand but it was enough to make her cry.

She practically melts thinking how good that night was.

Santana looks so beautiful and Brittany tries not to do anything that would bring attention to herself. Tyler whoops in delight, and Tina looks up from shovelling popcorn into her mouth.

"Such a moving and beautiful movie." Tyler sighs lovingly as he elbows Brittany in the ribs lightly, "Isn't it Brittany?"

Tina jumps up, almost throwing popcorn over Brittany.

"Holy shit!" Tina exclaims with her mouth full.

"What?"

Tina gasps and swallows the popcorn.

"That's Santana Lopez!" Her voice is full of wonderment and awe that has Brittany confused.

"Duh." Tyler and Brittany say in unison.

"We went to school with her!" Tina exclaims looking past Brittany to point between Tyler and the screen.

Brittany's nods enthusiastically, her face tight with restrained glee.

Wait, did she just hear her correctly? Her face drops. And so does her bowl of popcorn into her lap.

"What did you just say?"

Tina continues, obviously unaware of Brittany feeling like she'd just been hit with a bucket of ice water.

"Yeah, she went to McKinley High, we even were in Glee club together!"

The trailer ends and even though the advert is now about a fast-food restaurant Brittany has never dreamed of going to, she hears nothing but the ringing in her ears.

Her heart begins to pound in her chest and Tina slips off the couch with a hand to her forehead.

"I've been living under a rock – how the _Hell_ did I not know she was famous now?"

Brittany's tongue feels two sizes two big as she attempts to talk.

"What do – What do you mean '_we were in Glee club together'_?"

She begins to rack her brain, trying to place Santana in Glee club and fails. She's certain she'd remember someone as amazing as Santana in that club considering how annoying most of the members were.

Tina rolls her eyes and glowers.

"Oh right, you were too busy being popular I always forget about that. Weird."

Brittany thinks Tina sounds like she's been sucking bitter lemons.

"But - but I had a perfect record! I would know if…" She trails off in horror as she begins to realise why Santana would look at her so sadly.

The guilt begins to pool in her stomach and starts to feel like nausea.

Tina slaps Brittany on the back and guffaws.

"I'm telling you - Santana Lopez went to William McKinley High."

"What was she like?" Tyler asks quietly.

Brittany's not sure when his hand grasped hers, holding it close to his thigh like a lifeline. Her palm feels sweaty and she begins to rubs her free hand across her legs to dry it.

"She kept to herself, and she just seemed kinda angry and miserable all the time. She was a total bitch to people who dared talk to her, too." Tina replies back snottily. Brittany just stares at the green back of her laptop trying to process her horror.

"She looks smokin' hot now!" Tina observes as she switches on her laptop from it's place on the coffee table before continuing, "I mean – her hair was a dis-as-tuh and her glasses were all wrong for her face – seriously, they were like milk bottles or some shit. I heard that her family were like, Mafia or something, and she was in like a drug cartel gang, but yeah - she was in the band. She played the keys. She disappeared senior year and obviously wasn't missed considering we won Nationals and all. There were rumours she'd gone to prison, but - well," She breathes out a short laugh, "Now we know where she ended up!"

Tina settles back into couch with YouTube opened and searches 'Santana Lopez" which turns up results Brittany has looked over time and time again.

"Who would have thought out of anyone in Glee club getting famous it would be a band geek?"

Brittany feels sick.

"Rachel Berry is going to be _pissed_!"

She rises from her seat and walks to the kitchen, looking into the fridge, closing it again. She opens the cupboards, moving the items she entered into them and closes them again. She repeats the action three times trying to calm down, trying to look normal. When she's bored she does this, so this is what she is.

She is bored. She is not falling apart. Falling apart would involve crying and ugliness, and freak outs that are usually only reserved for Tina in this household. She is doing none of those things.

It's not really working.

"You're acting weirder than usual, Britt."

Tina's voice causes her to flinch as she continues to concentrate on staring at the eggs, thinking of the ways she could cook them instead of thinking about anything else.

She closes the fridge and moves to the cupboard above the fridge.

Tina grabs her shoulders forcing her to stop her movements around the kitchen. She watches has Tina face moves from concern to something a lot like realization.

"She's the person you're driving, isn't she?"

Tina's voice sounds like it's somewhere else to Brittany. She doesn't feel like she's in the same room anymore. She feels like she's in the middle of a cheese dream. She wants to wake up.

She takes Brittany's silence as an answer. She jumps with her arms wide causing Brittany to flinch.

"I knew that '_Lezpez_' nickname didn't come out of fresh air!"

Brittany lets out a ragged breath and runs her hand through the back of her bun and wraps a stray strand of blonde hair around her finger. She's trying so very hard not to bite her nails in anxiety.

Tina slaps her thigh and makes a small circle in the room. Tyler appears around the other side of the unit and Brittany thinks Tyler looks like he's about to slap Tina in turn.

"You watch what you say about Santana when she isn't here to defend herself."

His voice is dangerously low and his eyes ablaze with anger.

Brittany forces her legs to move again and she leaves everyone in the room behind. She needs to find peace somewhere else. She makes her way to her bedroom.

She wants to bury her head in the sand like the ostriches do, but she's too tired to walk to the beach and she's not in the mood to get sand in her hair so she opts for holding her head in her hands, sitting on the edge of the bed while Lord Tubbington taps her on the shoulder with his paw.

She hears the door open and feels the light from the hallway flooding into the room. She doesn't open her eyes, and continues her focus on her breathing. Maybe if she concentrates the ache will go away.

But it doesn't it's just there all achy and dull in her chest. It's constant and unforgiving. She wishes she could carve out a hole in the world, and cocoon like a butterfly. Maybe, she thinks, she'll come out a better person.

She slumps down on her bed and pushes her face into her pillow. She just feels so exhausted.

"You knew didn't you?" Her voice comes out so much sadder than she anticipated.

She feels the bed dip and a hand slide onto her arm.

"Not at first." He whispers quietly. It's almost like he's afraid to disturb the mood,

There's silence in the room, and all Brittany can hear is their breaths and the rapid beat of her heart.

"It's not my story to tell, Honey." His voice is even and quiet. His words are careful and Brittany feels fragile.

"Do you think she'll talk to me?"

"I think she'd do anything for you." His conviction sends ripples through Brittany's body.

Tyler is close enough for her to smell his aftershave. She concentrates on the smell instead of the unevenness of her breaths.

"Although, can we not involve your friend for the time being, please?" He whispers in mock paranoia. "She seems like she could be dangerous."

She laughs. It sounds alien to her ears. It's not easy or free like laughter should be - it sounds like a choke. When it begins to die down, she begins to feel the tears begin to fall, and then she sobs, and then she can't breathe. Everything feels like it's falling on her like Lord Tubbington's overweight-self, jumping onto her from a tree.

She hates feeling like this. Now she knows why Santana would look at her so sadly - because she didn't even remember the girl she's fallen so hard for.

When Tyler wraps his arm around her and whispers unintelligible words into her ear, all she wants is Santana there with her.

* * *

><p><em>Thank you for reading and reviewing. As always, let me know what you think!<em>


	16. A New Hope

_The response has been overwhelming – seriously I cannot thank you enough. I never want to insult the intelligence of you guys, and I tried my utmost not to bash everyone over the head with the clues. I apologize if they were too subtle (a bit of a worry of mine, I must admit) however - if it caused you to go back and re-read, I'm glad!_

_Another transitional chapter, it's definitely needed to get to the next chapter, and I didn't want to leave you guys hanging! There will be a companion piece to this story once it's completed, just FYI. I have so much story to tell but very little of the skill to execute it, and I don't like to stray from one perspective to another in stories - so a companion piece it will be!_

_ So the site seems to be acting up and is not sending out alerts. I'm attempting to repost it to see if it does. If not, oh well you'll have two updates to read next time!  
><em>

_Songs on rotation this chapter - M83 - Highway of Endless Dreams, Anna Ternheim - No I Don't Remember, and Natalie Imbruglia - Butterflies_

* * *

><p>Brittany has been standing at LAX Terminal 3 Arrivals with her cute, little hand made sign for 30 minutes now, and for all intents and purposes – she's more than perfectly calm.<p>

Her pants are pressed like new pants are, her white silk shirt is extra crisp and the uniform suit jacket has been left back in the company of Mulsanne.

There was a moment of realisation for her today as she sulked around her apartment, around the garage, around Tyler as he helped her conduct her simple plan. She's known for a while, felt it in the depth of her heart, and at the root of the butterflies in her stomach. One little - okay, kind of massive - revelation isn't going to make her regret the feelings that have only grown stronger.

She can say with ease and has done for the first time aloud today – she loves Santana Lopez. She loves her. She loves the girl she should have noticed years earlier. She loves the girl she began to drive three months ago with the saddest and most beautiful eyes she'd ever seen.

And as she holds her rainbow sign awaiting Santana and her Dad, while Tyler holds the most expensive red and white roses she could afford – she's feeling strangely fine.

* * *

><p>"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Tyler asks gently.<p>

She shakes her head.

"Or even come with me?" He continues hopefully, "I've got a memory foam mattress with your name on it?"

She just curls closer into Rainbow Dash.

"I'll call you tomorrow so we can set in motion _'Operation Tanahawk_'." He laughs at his codename idea, and taps Brittany's shoulder before leaving her room in silence.

When she hears the door to the apartment shut, she lets out a rattling breath and shuts her eyes tightly - praying for dreamless sleep to come.

* * *

><p><em>She lies on her childhood bed in the low light of her room back in Lima. Everything is exactly as it was before. Her favourite floral bedspread is on, her wallpaper is still the same, the posters and pictures of friends and family are where they were before. It's dark outside; the window is open - causing a draught, making goose bumps appear on the naked skin of her arms. She runs her hand down her arm and rises from the bed to shut the window.<em>

_All of this has happened before. _

_As she moves to the window and takes in the crisp air of an Autumnal night, she catches a lone figure walking on the sidewalk of her sleepy suburban street. Their head is lowered and slouched as they walk with no purpose; wearing a backpack full of troubles weighing them down, like a milestone around their neck. As she get looks harder, squinting in the darkness, she sees the figure is a girl. _

_The girl with the backpack stops and turns round. Her face is silhouetted by the streetlights. _

_She feels like she's being watched. She feels like the girl is looking at her. _

_She wants to get a closer look. She needs to see the girl's face; who she is, why she is walking around with a backpack full of troubles on her back. _

_She scampers from her room, she runs through the hallway of the house, silenced by slumber of the other inhabitants. The silence is deafening as she runs down the stairs and out of the front door. _

_When she leaves the house, panting, her breath rising in the cool air, she finds nothing. The girl has disappeared without a trace. _

* * *

><p>"You need to stop moping." Tina says as she throws clothes at Brittany who is wrapped up in her duvet in her room, looking through her scrapbook of Santana.<p>

She feels like she's gone into an antique store and managed to break every single item in the room. It's that kind of guilt that is consuming her as she looks at every article and every picture she's collected about Santana with a different view. She's still so beautiful, but it just makes her feel sad instead of proud and elated like it used to.

She closes her eyes and ignores the smaller girl and throws the book down next to her

Tina hops on the bed, causing her to bounce.

"This is what you get for being so self-involved." Tina sing-songs causing Brittany to grimace in irritation.

Knowing that you are flawless and owning it, does not mean you're self-involved.

So Brittany disagrees.

"Yes you are, Brittany. You may seem sweet and innocent on the outside but you could -and still can, by the way - bring bitch just as much as the rest of the Cheerios."

"Everybody loved me."

There's a rush of movement which nearly results in her crashing to the floor. The next thing she knows Tina's getting sassy, and all in her grill.

"You were a joke, Brittany!" Tina shrieks in her ear. The words ring in Brittany's ear. "Half of the student body thought you were the dumb and easy, and could bed you with the click of a gross, chubby finger!" Tina continues a lot more calm but the anger and volume still prevalent, "And you sure did a great job proving them right!"

She feels winded as Tina breathes heavily from her outburst. She looks shocked and her face is flushed as she sits back down on the edge of the bed.

Brittany is as close to anger as she's ever been. Her face feels hot and her nails are causing half moons in her palms from digging them in so hard.

She is the better person than Tina, who continues to breathe heavily. She says nothing, but stares at her Ke$ha poster on the wall.

"You're totally thinking you're better than me right now, aren't you?"

Brittany just shrugs.

"Maybe."

Tina shakes her head and runs a hand through her highlighted hair.

"Do you remember Mitchell Zwan? You sat next to him in History class. He would ask you if you wanted gum and you would stick your tongue down his throat to get it."

Brittany does not remember any of that at all, and if she didn't see the look on Tina's face she would say it was a bold faced lie and a deafening of her character, or whatever it's called.

That makes her feel even worse.

She remembers talking to people, waving, saying hello, even hanging out with the geeks in A/V club but as she thinks harder, she stiffens at the horror; realising she couldn't name anybody but Cheerios, jocks and some of the Glee club. The sadness is too much for her heart to take.

"Being forgetful doesn't mean I don't care." She says sadly.

"I know, Brittany." Tina's voice is the most sympathetic it's been since she barged into her room.

She watches as Tina looks on thoughtfully for a beat, before beginning to speak, yet again,

"Just because I remember Santana doesn't mean that other people did either. She was a 'no one curr' really. We all treated the band geeks kinda poorly when I think back on it. They were never invited to the parties we had, none of the emergency crisis meetings either - and yet they managed to turn up and never play a note wrong. High School is traumatising enough." Tina smiles wanly, "Getting through it is more important than remembering the people you thought you'd never have to see again."

Brittany's not sure she believes her when she feels the way she does right now.

"So stop sulking over a creepy fan scrapbook you made out of gossip mags that I got over making for Justin Timberlake when I was thirteen!" Tina slaps her thigh and pulls her arms trying to force the dour girl lying in bed, "You owe me at least thirty dollars worth of magazines now I know you were cutting the important shit out. And a notebook!" She adds annoyingly, "One of those, too!"

Brittany pushes herself deeper into her pillow

"S'only a month worth." She mutters through the pillow, "'Sides, you were all wrapped up in your magical pony."

Brittany's one eye doesn't miss the sour look on Tina's face.

"Yeah well, I've come out of the cave of co-dependency, and I'm awake and ready to smell the goss."

Brittany shoots up in the bed and realises, in alarm, that she's breaking her confidentiality agreement.

"You cannot talk about this to anyone else! I'm not supposed to be talking about it to anyone!"

"Backing singers." Tina corrects. "And don't worry, I won't."

Brittany thinks they're the same thing when it comes to the background charm of Tina Cohen-Chang.

"Do you like her?"

"I love her." She replies back instantly.

It's then Brittany realises that she's never said it aloud to another soul before. It makes the weight in her chest a little lighter. She can't stop the small smile fighting it's way to her face, before it vanishes once again.

Tina looks like she's about to coo at her before she looks on dubiously.

"Are you sure it's not because she's famous?" She asks suspiciously. Her eyes are narrowed to a squint.

"She's not even that famous." Brittany argues weakly. It's kind of true, when she first started driving Santana all she heard was how Santana was _going_ to be famous. She's only gotten _famous _famous since her and Tyler had started their bearding thing, and Brittany knows she was already head over heels by then.

Tina nods in agreement but quickly snaps back to her eyes flashing her with a dangerous look.

"It's not because she's famous." Her voice is quiet and she tries really hard not to think about the guilt that's clawing it's way up her chest.

Tina gets up off the bed and starts throwing clothes at Brittany again.

She is _so_ not cleaning Tina's mess up.

"Then grow up and stop moping! It's time to woo the bitch! You do know how to woo, right?"

Brittany's not going to say no, so she nods her head slowly instead.

She heaves a sigh and begins rifling through the small pile of clothes that has been collected on her bed while Tina goes into the living area and turns the radio on.

Brittany wishes Neverland was real and she could stay there forever, because all this being an adult thing is way too complicated for her.

And the guilt and love all rolled into one is going to be the death of her. Her heartbeat doesn't feel normal. It thuds in her ears like a constant reminder of her ignorance and failures of being a good person. Because she doesn't feel so great right now, and while Tina may have been more helpful than usual - it hasn't really changed anything.

Brittany thinks, maybe that could be a good thing.

When she slips into the bathroom and stares long and hard at herself in the mirror she pushes at the lines on her skin, trying to patch up her armour.

* * *

><p>She walks into the Garage the same way she usually does on a weekend, now – casual. She wears her sunglasses, her baseball cap is tipped back haphazardly on her head as her hair falls around her face in waves, and her sweat pants may or may not have a coffee stain on them. It's okay, though – she's working it.<p>

She's shocked to find Carl with his clipboard and pencil behind his ear in front of a shiny black Lincoln Town Car as she makes her way to the office.

She stutters to a stop in front of him and takes her sunglasses away from her face.

"The wife is stressing out over my eldest bringing her girlfriend over for dinner tonight. So, I'm hiding out here for a while." He explains at her questioning look. His moustache is no longer there and he's wearing a green polo shirt and chino pants instead of his usual suit attire.

In a way Brittany is kind of glad he is here.

"She wanted me to take the poor kids door from her room!"

He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and lets out a chuckle. Brittany decides to not tell him sexy times happen no matter what - door or no door.

Well, at least for her anyway.

"You don't look so great, kid."

Brittany's attention snaps back to his. Maybe she should have put make-up on today.

"I have stress." She states blankly.

Carl runs his hand over his newly clean-shaven face and laughs in a way that makes it seem to Brittany that he doesn't believe that she could actually have stress.

Rude.

She flips her hair behind her shoulder and huffs silently.

"Since you're here I have something to ask you, actually."

"By all means, ask away."

"Hypoglycaemically speaking…"

Carl suddenly looks concerned and reaches in his back pocket and Brittany begins to hear the distinct sound of change in his pocket.

"You want a candy bar?" He asks frantically taking a handful of quarters out of his pocket.

"Yes." Brittany shakes her head in confusion. "Wait – no, I don't."

Carl frowns deeply and Brittany's not sure if she should continue talking until after he stops looking so constipated. His face slackens and he lets out a low "Oh".

"You mean '_Hypothetically_'!" He exclaims in comprehension and lets out a fond chuckle before slapping Brittany on the back.

Yet again - totally rude.

"Didn't I say that?" Brittany replies blankly.

Carl continues to chuckle and makes a motion willing her to continue.

She fiddles with the zips of her hooded jacket, trying to keep as calm as possible. She really is not the best at the art of deception.

"So lets just say…" She trails off ambiguously, _ "Someone_ may have found out they went to school with the person they currently drive and, like, j_ustalittlebitinlovewiththem_…" She rushes out in a breath. She averts her eyes away from Carl and trying to saunter over to the car he's leaning against to trail her finger faux-absently across the bonnet. She can totally keep this cool, "Does that whole tap that ass rule thingy still count then?"

Carl's eyes are wider when she looks back to him. His lips are pressed to a thin line and he clears his throat. Brittany continues to play it as cool as possible.

He stares at her for a few moments before walking away, expecting Brittany to follow him.

"I'd say, '_hypothetically speaking'_," he replies dryly, "You have a week left to drive this person - so keep it in your pants."

So much for expecting anything different.

"Right," She nods resolutely, "Okay. But dates are fine if the situation turned out to be, you know, still - _hypothetical -_ right? " She adds innocently.

Carl stops abruptly, turning to face her with a look that reminds her fondly of her Dad.

He fishes something that sounds a lot like keys out of his pocket and hands them over to Brittany.

He grabs her palm and wraps it in his larger, and more calloused one.

"Mulsanne just got some new tires. No funny business." He adds knowingly.

Brittany's hopeful he's given his blessing in car form. She smiles brightly and takes the keys and goes to locate the car on the other side of the garage.

* * *

><p>"Where are your eyebrows?" Tyler greets her in horror as he lets himself in the passenger side of Mulsanne.<p>

"I forgot them?" She shrugs helplessly.

Tyler just looks bewildered.

"I have a sharpie in my bag if you want to borrow it?"

Brittany grimaces and swots his hand away from her face.

"Lets go to the Beverley Center! We can get your face beat at one of the Make-Up kiosks in Bloomingdales!" His tone takes on a saucier tone as he begins to wriggle his own eyebrows, "Get you looking all the more beautiful for 'Tanahawk'." He chuckles to himself.

He flexes his red knitted sweater-covered bicep and fixes his already perfect hair in the mirror before continuing; "I'll pay for it, because your invisa-brows are making me uncomfortable."

Brittany's not going to complain. She looks at herself in the mirror located in the sun visor - they make her slightly uncomfortable too.

* * *

><p>Tyler looks over his phone when Brittany puts their iced coffee's on the table.<p>

"Their flight is at six-thirty. We've got four hours to finalize '_Operation Tanahawk_'."

Again, he chuckles at his portmanteau.

She sits down and takes a sip from her coffee cup.

It's simple.

"I'm going to buy a white rose and a red rose, and surprise her at the airport. Then I'm going to take her out to dinner, and then we're going to talk, and then I'm going to drive her home, and then I'm going to go home to bed."

Brittany's plan does not anticipate awkwardness, anger or outright refusal. She decided to not think about any of that until it may occur.

"Just like that?" Tyler's eyes are shining brightly in the low light of the small café corner they're huddled in together as they both take a sip of their iced coffees in-sync.

It's neither the most inventive, nor the most romantic plan ever, but Brittany isn't looking for inventive or unique. She wants to make Santana as comfortable as possible, and anything good and special that can come from that can be the best bonus possible.

"Yes." She replies with a serene smile, "Just like that."

* * *

><p>She's decided she's never shopping with Tyler again when she walks out of Bloomingdales with a new face and a pair of comfy black Ralph Lauren skinny pants and a silk white shirt that cost her more than half her weekly salary. She has a feeling Tina would be crying if she saw the bill.<p>

Tyler just shrugged nonchalantly and said,

"Fashion and comfort are not mutually exclusive."

She doesn't disagree.

Her make-up is done, her false eyelashes have been applied, her face airbrushed, and her blue eyes now look a even brighter shade of blue thanks to the brown and blacks of the Smoky eye shadows. She decides to take a lot of pictures on her phone so she can have a new Twitter display picture. She'd totally tap herself, if she wasn't herself.

She's going to feel almost upset when it comes to bedtime and she'll have to remove it.

They don't spend long hanging around at the florist. The various smells make Brittany want to sneeze they're that overpowering. She's kind of fearful she's going to ruin her new shirt and pants not even twenty minutes after she's bought them.

They find the lady, Brittany tells her what she wants and she does exactly what she asks.

"That'll be eighty nine dollars, please!" The woman - with a green apron, cat-like tortoise shell glasses, and the worst black-haired dye job Brittany has ever seen - says with a overly friendly tone that has Brittany suspicious.

She gulps at the price of two single roses. Two. She catches Tyler's slack jawed expression and is appreciative of the fact it's not just her that thinks it's just a little overpriced.

She pouts, and hands over five, crisp twenty-dollar bills; fresh from the ATM. It'll be worth it, she hopes.

* * *

><p>It's been a while since she has had to deal with the horrors of LAX traffic as she gets out of Mulsanne after spending 30 minutes looking for a free spot in the Terminal three parking lot. She doesn't miss it.<p>

Tyler looks haggard as he meets up with her after managing to park his own car twenty minutes prior.

"It's good we decided to get here two hours early!" Tyler says as he jogs alongside Brittany trying to catch up with her.

Brittany nods and they make their way to the entrance into the Terminal.

* * *

><p>She finds it calming as she watches the mass of people walking past as they sit in arrivals. It makes her want to pick a destination and get out of the city for a few days and just relax.<p>

Tyler seems to be thinking the same thing as he sighs deeply and rests his head on her shoulder.

"I wish I was on my way to Bora Bora."

Brittany doesn't. She wishes to go back to where everything really began.

"I wish I was going home."

* * *

><p>"They're at the gate."<p>

Brittany puts the finishing touches to her rainbow coloured name sign she decided to create after buying crayons and paper from the news-stand out of boredom.

Tyler looks impressed at her work.

"Will you ever greet me with a sign like that in arrivals?"

Brittany grins toothily.

"Sure - for a hundred and fifty dollars return."

She feels like time has stopped as she waits for Santana to appear. She checks her watch repeatedly, but the calm that has settled on her hours earlier still lingers.

She's kept this plan simple and to the point, leaving very little to go wrong. She's going to make sure she does this right. She may not be the greatest at buying fancy things, or even say the right thing sometimes but she refuses to screw this up.

She looks over to Tyler who has the roses in his hands (there's still spies in an airport as large as this) as he watches her with a smile on his face and a free hand to give her thumbs up.

There's an announcement and moments later people start coming from the entryway with their suitcases. She bobs her head looking for a sign of Santana anywhere.

Brittany spots Miguel first before her eyes travel to the smaller figure latched onto his arm.

Her head is down, and she looks tiny in her black hooded jacket and the cutest pair purple high-tops.

She looks so much like the girl in her dream; with her backpack on her shoulders, and her hood up like she carries all of the troubles of the world on her back.

Santana's eyes catch hers in the sea of people as they get closer to the barriers. Her eyes are intense and bright, and Brittany gasps audibly as she finally realises everything she's missed in getting to this point. She remembers the girl with the bushy hair and glasses that would always fall down who's locker was just a few down from hers, she remembers the girl who always hid the bruises from being thrown into lockers with baggy jackets, and she remembers more than anything - the girl who'd walk past her house every night, with no purpose. The tears begin to fill her eyes and she can only see blurry outlines, as Miguel and Santana grow closer. Her knees feel weak and her hands holding the sign start to tremble uncontrollably Tyler steps in to take the sign away from her.

She roughly wipes her eyes as the smaller girl puts her hood down and stops in front of Brittany with sad, concerned eyes. It wasn't supposed to happen like this at all. She was going to wait to see Santana's surprised face, and then hug her. The tearful mess she's turned into was not part of the plan.

"Are you okay?" She asks so gently it makes Brittany falter.

Brittany surges forward and wraps Santana in a bruising hug and begins to sob silently into her neck. And as Santana's arms wind around her back, she breaks.

She sobs and cries harder than she's ever cried before, and blubbers out a mantra of apologies, of lost time, of being to scared to tell her how she felt long before they ever got to this point. She doesn't care if people see her, if she's making a scene even when she should, because she can't think about anything beyond the girl in her arms and just how sorry she is.

But Santana just holds her tighter; whispers words of comfort; of '_it's okays'_ and _'don't worry's'_. She lets Brittany cry into her neck, low and aching and filled with so much regret.

Just for now this is all they are and nothing else. When she finds the strength she'll move, but right now – this is everything.

She knows.

* * *

><p>I'm scared of my work schedule for March, but I will seriously try and update this badboy ASAP. Thanks again for reading, your reviews are always appreciated.<p> 


	17. Baby, We've Been Stallin'

_Sorry for the severe lack of updates my work schedule has prevented me big time and is showing little sign of slowing up. Anyway this is a two-parter and I spent quite a bit of time re-writing and editing trying to get it right. Hope you guys are happy with it._

_Songs of the chapter - The Saturdays – White Lies (which is pop perfection btw and also another song that inspired me along the way with little story), Explosions in the Sky - Look Into the Air, Laura Marling – The Muse, Oh Land – Lean._

_Thanks again for reading and reviewing!_

* * *

><p>Her simple plan manages to crash and burn after the unforeseen blubbery mess she turned into when she saw Santana walking towards her in her black hooded jacket, and took her to places thousands of miles elsewhere. She held onto Santana for fifteen minutes before she managed to pry herself away from the girl and give her the roses.<p>

She never publicly cries in such a dramatic way. Well, unless it's to get something she really wants and even then it's a rarity.

The last time she sobbed like that was over a stupid boy. She wailed for an hour early into Freshman year to get Finn Hudson weekend detention when he had the nerve to call her stupid. Pot calling the frying pan rusty much? He was warned before she descended into fits of sobs and when she did, his faced scrunched into the face of a baby who had soiled its diaper.

Brittany still shudders at that specific memory.

She relished in his discomfort, and when Principle Figgins handed him his fate (weekend detention and demotion to towel-boy for a month), all felt right in the world. The next day he showed up with a black-eye and she couldn't bring herself to feel sorry for him. Rumours were rife he walked into Mike Chang's fist, all Brittany knows is – she got what she wanted.

But this is different. This is overwhelming, and hits her right in the heart. It makes her chest hurt and her throat close up like a flytrap. She's hurts and feels fine and it confuses her more than recipes.

They walk close together as they make their way back to Mulsanne. They bypass the people and Brittany doesn't look anywhere but at the floor in front of her and focuses on the arm that is linked with her own.

"Are you okay?" Santana asks for the fifth time, as they careen through the meandering passengers looking to get to their destination. Her voice is full of concern and music to Brittany's ears.

Brittany feels like she should be the one asking her that, but all she can do is nod and tighten the grip she already had on Santana's arm. The tight feeling in her chest would come and go. It would push against her windpipe.

She squeaks in her war on sobbing, and she feels Santana flinch next to her. But when the beautiful girl she hates herself for not remembering moves her hand from the pockets of her cute little hoodie and linked their hands tightly together - it makes her feel slightly better.

When Brittany would peer over to look at Santana, her face was a mask of determination. Like she was trying to stop the world with the power of thought and protect her from anyone who dared to fix them with prying eyes.

It just made her want to cry all over again.

If she's learned anything in the past hour – airports make her emotional.

And as she walks hand in hand with Santana to Mulsanne after Tyler and Miguel bid them farewell with warm hugs, and looks like they know the answers to the biggest secrets ever known - she begins to find her inner Zen again.

They stop by the passenger side and Santana faces her with a look of hesitation.

"Take me home, and I'll make you dinner, okay?" Santana says quietly, her brow creased in concern and squeezing the paler hand still in her own. Her deep, brown eyes are cloudy and Brittany can't read anything in them but the care she displays so openly. And while it would upset Brittany when she was acting like her normal flaw-free self, she's actually thankful she doesn't have to see all the feelings that are attached to guilt.

Brittany sniffles and nods as she opens the door to Mulsanne with their hands still linked together. A cool hand that belongs to the darker girl in front of her rests softly on her chin and moves slowly up to her cheek. She tenderly wipes away the tear Brittany hadn't realised had managed to escape.

It feels so familiar. It feels inviting and she lets out a shuddery breath before taking the backpack from her shoulders and shutting the door behind her.

Okay, so she's not completely Zen just yet.

* * *

><p>They sit in silence as Mulsanne sits stationary outside of Santana's house. The roses she gave Santana are placed neatly on the dashboard. The strong sent permeates the air sweetly. It almost comforts Brittany.<p>

Neither of the inhabitants inside Mulsanne make any sign to move. Santana's thumb traces small circles on the back of Brittany's hand, sending shivers down Brittany's spine. It's both comforting and distracting and yet Brittany is too tired to do anything about it.

She feels drained. Exhausted down to the bare bones.

She leans forward and rests her head against the steering wheel, grateful for the sharp hit of cool material as it rests against her forehead.

Santana snakes her hand softly and slowly around the lower of her back. The feather light touch that is only inches from her skin sends the shivers down her spine to the low depths of her belly.

She whispers over and over inside her head, _why didn't you say anything_? Until it gets as loud as a scream in an empty forest, like an anguished cry inside her head, but as it bubbles out of her mouth in a rush of air, it couldn't sound any more like a whisper; flat in the thickening air inside Mulsanne.

The motion on her back stills and the atmosphere becomes thick; stifling. Brittany closes her eyes tightly and curls her hands into fists. She begins to feel more anxious as the silence continues.

The silence feels like years for Brittany. She's relieved when she hears Santana's shaky breath; knowing time hasn't completely stopped. When Santana finally speaks, her voice is strained and raspy.

"I was working on it." She replies lowly.

Brittany opens one eye to chance a look at the girl in the seat next to her. She catches the conflicted look in her dark eyes.

"The time never seemed right." She continues. Her tone is filled with missed opportunities and sadness. Brittany hears her swallow thickly. "It's not a time I like thinking back on, Britt." It's a whisper loud enough to be a scream, and Brittany's stomach fills with butterflies of discontent.

She surveys Santana from her place in the passenger seat. She looks so sad and hopeful and remorseful, it makes her own emotions do a back-flip.

That haunted look flashes upon Santana's face and Brittany begins to wonder if she has managed to make everything a little harder for Santana.

"Have I made everything worse?" She asks fearfully and sucks on the cuff of her over-priced shirt that she knows Tyler would have a fit about if he saw her using the item as a comfort blanket.

She worries the bottom of her lip and catches Santana's fiercely bright eyes with her own.

They're so intense, the amber hues of the street-lights that reflect in her eyes look like flames, and it takes Brittany's breath away from her.

"God, no." The conviction in Santana's voice warms her insides.

But the discontent doesn't stop, and it only makes her think how ignorant she's been this whole time.

Santana takes her hand into her own and squeezes it tightly.

"You know me now." Santana states with her expression determined. "That's all that really matters."

She presses her cheek harder into the steering wheel which causes the horn to go off. She jumps back in her seat and almost bangs her head on the roof.

Santana lets go of her hand and tenderly pushes her blonde hair away from her face. Brittany turns to face the girl in the passenger seat and sees the look of unabashed appreciation.

She expected Santana to close off, be angry, sad, rattled like a snake that's poked by a mongoose, and while she still has her fleeting moments of going somewhere beyond this place, it surprises Brittany at how calm Santana is about this. It seems a lot like relief.

"I only drive you for six more days." Brittany blurts out.

Her voice doesn't elevate in volume. It's small and quiet but insulates inside the leathered walls of Mulsanne. It stays in here away from the rest of the world.

She doesn't miss the corners of Santana's full lips rising upward in the hint of a smile before her eyes soften and hold her own blue ones.

"Then you'll begin to drive someone else."

The trace of the smile vanishes and she presses her lips into a thin line of determination.

Her dark, intense eyes say _I'm sorry I'm trying so hard please understand please don't push me harder than I'm pushing myself_ and so many other things that just make Brittany sad that Santana doesn't seem to like herself as much as she does.

Despite her misgivings, and the frustration of everything clawing at her insides like a bad Taco Bell - she nods resolutely and moves forward to kiss Santana.

Santana slumps back in her chair in a huff, missing Brittany trying to get her juicy lips onto her favourite lips. If there were other people around she may have felt slighted, but instead she can only find Santana sulking adorable despite the severity of, well, everything.

Santana moves away and presses a heavy hand to her forehead. The 'thwack' causes Brittany to wince at how hard Santana just hit herself.

Brittany watches the torment flicker on Santana's features. Her jaw is tight and her eyes are filled with so much bitterness for a moment it makes Brittany only flinch deeper.

But then Santana lets out a deep sigh and her face reflects nothing but a good-natured smile intended to make Brittany feel better.

"C'mon, I've got a meal to make."

"I don't think it's a good idea I stay." Brittany decides sadly. Her plan has already managed to go boobies up. She'd hate to ruin this night even more than her crying already has. "I mean I want to!" She reassures quickly, but Santana shakes her head in understanding and fixes her intense gaze on her.

"It okay, Britt." Santana replies calmly with an understanding smile and a warm squeeze of Brittany's shoulder, "Whatever you want."

Santana picks up her backpack and begins to open the car door and lift herself out gracefully. Brittany scrambles out of the car and catches up with the roses Santana left on the dashboard.

The coy smile she receives when falling in-step next to the dark-haired girl makes her soon realise Santana did that on purpose.

They bump shoulders as they walk side-by-side up the gravel driveway. Brittany feels like a goofy teenage-boy unsure what to do for a moment when they stop outside of Santana's large door.

Santana turns slowly around on the spot to face her. She looks timid, conflicted and fiddles with the straps of her backpack. Brittany wants to kiss her adorable face but she decides to let Santana dictate the pace. The dark-haired girl moves her weight from one foot to the other and awkwardly scratches her face.

"The roses were a nice touch by the way." Santana says softly. "I've never been given a rose before." Santana says bashfully and kicks a stray rock from the gravel in her driveway with great interest. Brittany wants to lift her chin up so she can see those dark eyes again. She doesn't have to. Santana looks up at her through her lashes and smiles softly. "Thank you."

Brittany thinks it's the twinkle from the porch light that causes her to swoop in and take Santana's lips with her own. It's just a peck, and she can taste Santana's mint lip balm.

"You're welcome." She replies with a toothy grin, swaying on the spot like a punch-drunk teen.

She'll blame her next words on being completely smitten at the bashful tint of pink on Santana's cheeks.

"Ya know, I always felt like I've known you before I started driving you. I was just too stupid to realise that I actually did."

Santana begins to chew nervously on her lip as she stares back at Brittany.

She prays to Rainbow Dash she hasn't managed to say the wrong thing when she sees the frown begin to form on the face in front of her.

Santana shrugs her shoulders and begins to unlock her door.

"I moved to Lima when I was twelve." Is what Santana leaves her with as she begins to walk through the open doorway Her voice carries along the light breeze and it rings in Brittany's ears. "It's where my Mom comes from."

Brittany watches her close the door with wide eyes, as Santana's hooded eyes catch hers before the door is locked and the lights begin to illuminate the frosted glass from the other side of the door.

It's the first time Santana has ever mentioned her mother, and Brittany wonders if their relationship is a good one. She's sure it's something she'll find out in due time.

As she walks away – still confused- she can't stop the goofy smile appearing on her face.

There was no anger, no outright refusal, maybe a little bit of awkwardness and no dinner date at all, but she feels like she's got Santana right where she wants her - she just needs to be patient.

It's a start. It feels like a new hope. Really, really this time.

Although planning doesn't seem to be her thing, and sobbing isn't her thing either (it's Tina's thing. Lets be real here) she still managed to enjoy something out of it.

She goes home and nods along happily to the latest top 100 offerings, and walks happily into the darkened apartment, subdued in slumber from the Asian Goth and furry inhabitant sleeping soundly.

She throws off her clothes and scrubs her face clean, and falls into bed with ease.

When she sleeps she dreams of many things and forgets them all.

* * *

><p><em>Nothing has changed in her neighbourhood as she staggers along the sidewalk in the dead of night. The blurring of her vision and heavy breathing echoes in the cool, night air. She feels like she's walking on a cloud, being held up and manipulated by the strings of a puppet master. Her side bumps the hip of someone else and an arm wrapped securely around her waist.<em>

_All of this has happened before, and it will happen again._

"_Where are we going?" Her words jumble together in a mess of slurs and splutters. _

_Her mouth feels numb and it begins to move across her face when they stop and she's heaved up to match the height of the smaller person carrying her along. _

_A small hand silhouetted by the street-lights and darkness of suburbia pushes the blonde strands of hair that have fallen in front of her eyes. _

_Brittany squints and tries to focus on the person. They smell like oranges and lilies. She knows it's a girl when the low, steady voice speaks carefully to her. _

"_I'm taking you home." They say gruffly. _

_She begins to topple over squinting at the girl who holds her closely. _

_The breath that hits her cheek smells like menthol. _

_She feels something thrust into her hand that feels like a bottle. _

"_Drink it." The voice husky and quiet suggests. "I didn't do anything to it." They add quickly and Brittany feels dizzy. There's a pause and Brittany continues to sway merrily on the spot. "I bought it from the store." _

_The girl wraps her smaller hands around the hands that grip tightly on the bottle and pops the safety cap of the bottle open. _

"_Drink it." _

_It feels like a dance. _

_She takes a large gulp from the bottle. It tastes like grape. _

_That arm securely makes itself known around her waist and turns her around to lean back onto the person next to her. _

_Her head feels heavy and droops close to her chest. The person next to her takes a tender fingertip and lifts her head up like a feather on the breeze._

"_Lets get you home." _

"_Okay." She slurs as she leans into the girl feeling a backpack resting on her shoulders. It's the girl with the backpack full of troubles. She closes her eyes as the world begins to spin uncontrollably and rests her head on the other girl's shoulder, "Okay." _

* * *

><p>The day starts much like recent days of the past four months. Except this time she awakes before her alarm, bright eyed and bushy with out the tail. She takes her shower in giddy satisfaction while singing along to Jessie J tunes. She quickly calmed down when she nearly slipped from getting down a little too hard to 'Do It Like A Dude'. She grabs her dance gear and folds them neatly into her holdall and puts them to onside and dresses herself accordingly.<p>

She has a good feeling about today.

Her routine takes minimal time and she's walking leisurely out her apartment and getting into Mulsanne with more than minutes to spare.

She turns up at Santana's house nearly half and hour earlier than her required call time this morning, and decides to take her chances and ring the doorbell instead. She doesn't have to wait long, but she starts to bite her nails wondering if she's being too forward.

Brittany smiles and waves giddily when Santana peers around the only slightly opened door.

Santana looks flustered which Brittany finds adorable.

"Oh, hello." Santana squints and places the tortoiseshell cat-like glasses onto her face. The white shirt and grey pencil skirt she wears make her look like a sexy office worker. Brittany can't stop herself from the office fantasies to run through her head. Like a sexy pop music video with lip-gloss and hairography and heels and sexy, sexy women.

"I haven't put my contacts in yet." Santana explains the glasses. Brittany thinks she suits them more than any body else she's seen in that style.

"I can wait outside." She clears her throat as she trails off tightly, trying not to look like she wants to eat Santana. "Just I was early and I thought I would try something different."

Santana shakes her head in disbelief and grabs Brittany's wrist pulling her into the house.

Her grip loosens as they navigate the long hallways and enter the kitchen. Brittany willingly lets herself be pulled along.

"Sit." Santana orders with firm kindness and Brittany obeys plopping on the same stool she had the last time she was in this very kitchen.

The smell of chorizo and bacon fills her nostrils and Santana walks around the island to pick up the aluminium-foiled package Brittany has gotten used to.

Santana places the burrito in front of Brittany with a plate, and nudges her shoulder before making her way out of the far entrance to the kitchen.

"There's coffee brewed and Gatorade in the fridge. Go crazy."

So Brittany does. In true Cribs-like fashion Brittany decides to be nosey and look in Santana's fridge. She's surprised at how stocked the large fridge is with food and drink. Considering the little time Santana spends on set, there's plenty of fresh vegetables and condiments are unopened. Brittany wonders if Santana has an assistant, because Tina says most famous people have an assistant but she hasn't seen one yet. Maybe she has a maid. There's no alcohol (completely different story to her fridge) but plenty of Gatorade and Mountain Dew. She takes a bottle of the former and sits back down on the stool to eat her burrito.

She makes quick progress finishing her burrito and decides to get her phone out and take some photographs of the extravagant and cool kitchen and herself out of boredom. Because when boredom strikes - taking pictures of herself is always fun.

She's taken a vast array of photos in five minutes (and may have drained her battery big time). Different poses, different looks. Heck she got so into it, she decides to top up on her favourite red lipstick she always keeps in her pocket for emergencies to give her extra pout. She stopped herself from climbing onto the granite island to pose in a provocative position. In true catalogue style, she is currently in the middle of pretending to laugh at the funniest thing ever to have been photographed when she hears the clearing of a throat.

She fumbles with her phone, nearly dropping it in the process and swiftly turns around from her position by the fridge to see Santana smirking with her perfectly shaped eyebrows raised.

"What are you doing?" Santana asks with an amused raise of an eyebrow.

She stuffs her phone back in her jacket pocket and shrugs her shoulders as nonchalantly as possible and saunters over to the stool she was first sat at when Santana left her.

"Photo opportunity."

Santana just shakes her head with a smile and looks down at her feet as she walks to the stool next to Brittany.

Brittany angles her chair so she's looking directly at Santana and her sexy secretary outfit. She spots Santana holding a small brown paper bag tightly.

Their eyes meet fleetingly for a moment and Brittany spots Santana's slight nervousness as she averts her gaze. Brittany sighs blissfully and rests her head on her elbow. She'll give Santana all the time she needs.

Well, at least until they need to go. Time is getting on and Santana has a movie to film after all.

Santana places the bag on the counter-top and pushes it closer to Brittany.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking since last night." She starts out gruffly. She pauses and fixes her stoic gaze on Brittany's. "My Dad has a thing for fridge magnets." Her voice is even and her expression is blank, "Like, he has hundreds of them from everywhere he's travelled. He has a magnetic notice board in his office to stick them onto." Her smile is warm and her eyes scan the kitchen as she recalls details of her father, "I never really got it," She says with a shrug of her shoulders, "But he always said 'it's a small token of a memory. Good or bad. Never forget or you'll never move on'."

Brittany feels the atmosphere change between them. It's thick and her breath begins to quicken at the sight of Santana's intense gaze moving closer. Her eyes are ablaze with turbulent emotions Brittany isn't sure she wants to identify.

"I've had this since I was fifteen." Santana continues. Her rasp is lower than before as she grabs the brown paper bag and sets it in front of Brittany, "You can open it if you want."

For a few moments, she does nothing. She looks to Santana for encouragement, but all she does is sit patently while looking out of the large window.

Brittany hesitates before peering into the brown bag. The crinkling of the paper rings harshly in her ears, and her hand is met with a small, black cardboard box.

She lifts it out and slowly opens the box.

It's a simple purple chord charm bracelet with silver clasps. It's simple and looks similar to the black one she used to have growing up before it snapped and she lost all her charms. She was so upset when it broke and she lost the charms she spent most of the allowance her parents gave her collecting the trinkets.

It's beautiful and something she always wanted without ever thinking of getting again.

"It seemed like something you'd love." Santana says quietly. Brittany feels light-headed and catches Santana watching her carefully. All these things she's done for her just make her heart beat harder and faster. "I had this crazy idea I'd sneak it into your locker at graduation, maybe write one of those cheesy notes to go along with it," Her tone is self-deprecating, and doesn't change as she continues, "But I didn't get that far, and I don't really think I would have been brave enough to even try it." Brittany catches Santana's tumultuous gaze before she smiles, "But no time like the present, right?"

Brittany doesn't know what to say as she toys with the clasp of the bracelet. She should say thank you, but she worries she'll become a stupid emotional mess again.

She feels Santana moving next to her and keeps her gaze on the bracelet when placed on the counter, is a small silver charm. It gleams in the sunlight bleeding through the windows of the kitchen. Brittany picks it up to inspect it.

"I bought that one when I was sixteen."

It's a pair of silver ballet shoes with untied ribbons. It's small and simple, and simply perfect.

Brittany looks up to Santana with wide eyes, still trying to find the words, but her mouth is dry and her lips feel like they're sewn together.

"I mean it when I say I've been working on trying to tell you." Santana says sagely. "And I don't mean for the past three-going-on-four months." Brittany can't take her eyes from the dark ones before her. "I mean _years_." Her voice, which was strong but refined, turns into a whisper full of years of internalized emotion. Brittany watches Santana's eyes brim with tears.

Her chest feels tight.

"Y-Years?" Brittany swallows audibly.

Santana catches her with wide eyes and nods. There's a quiet strength in her that Brittany is completely taken with as she speaks in such an easy manner about a time that she obviously doesn't like talking about.

"You may not remember this." Santana says coyly, "But you were the only person to be nice to me on my first day at Herrington Middle."

Brittany brow creases in confusion, trying to remember back to when she was in Middle School, when things were a lot simpler and the cliques that broke the outsiders and losers didn't exist, but bullies still ran the school.

"That Mohawk bitch, Puckerman threw my Harry Potter book into the puddle of mud that would always show up late November in the corner of the yard near the oak tree."

Brittany remembers that oak tree; with its low branches that were low enough to sit on and yet people never seemed to venture over there. Except for one girl with a book and dark messy hair. The one she's coming to realise is the one in front of her now.

"He called me names and I kicked him in the balls" Santana's smirk is dangerous but hollow, "He ran off pretty quick after that!" Brittany can see the small inklings of a real smile appearing Santana's face as she slowly raises her head, "But my Harry Potter book was drowning in dirt."

Santana takes the bracelet from her pale hands and begins to unclasp it. She motions with a smile for Brittany to bring her hand forward.

"The next thing I know," She continues in rather calm fashion as she threads the charm onto the bracelet with ease, "I see this beautiful, blonde-haired girl wearing the cutest but frilliest-as-fuck white dress, twirling around in the mud in her combat boots dancing around without a care, picking up my book and wiping it off on her dress."

The memory hits Brittany like nausea. She remembers the timid dark-haired girl she assumed didn't understand English, as Puck spoke to her like someone who speaks to people who don't look like they understand English. Her cute red shirt and jeans looked baggy and two sizes too big. She was small, and skinny and her hair stuck out at awkward angles adorably; it made her look younger than everyone else. If only she tried harder to get to know her.

"She introduced herself as Brittany - Queen of the Unicorns."

The tears spring to her eyes and run down her cheeks freely as she sees Santana's sheepish smile recalling the memory.

"The bell went before I could say thank you, but you ran back into school before I could even tell you my name."

A moment of sadness passes over Santana and that guilt begins to claw at her insides again.

Santana begins to wrap the bracelet around Brittany's wrist and concentrates on shutting the clasp.

"I had to Google some of the names Puck called me," The sadness still appears behind her smile, as she is still focused on the bracelet, "And buy a new book, but I was taken by your beautiful hair and the bluest eyes I'd ever seen."

Santana moves her fingers from the clasp and tenderly moves her hands up Brittany's wrist and trails her index finger across the pale skin. Brittany's head begins to swim and she looks to Santana through hooded eyes.

"The hows and the whys don't matter much because well, I. – I just." She takes a deep breath and smiles so brightly it hits Brittany right in the chest, "You're here. In LA. You're driving me to work, in my fucking house." Her voice breaks and she takes another breath to calm. When she looks up at Brittany once again, her dark eyes are brimming with determination and maybe just, maybe - love in its purest and hopeful form. "And the way you look at me gives me hope I never thought I'd ever get to have."

Brittany thinks she may cry again. Or maybe kiss her. Or do both.

Her face is inches from her own, and as her minty breath hits her increasingly reddening cheek - her eyes flutter closed.

She feels the press of lips on the corner of her mouth. It's slow and purposeful. Then she feels it on the other corner of her mouth, much the same way, before she feels the lips she wanted so badly on her own.

She melts - not literally because that would be gross - but she surrenders to the feelings of Santana kissing her with her full lips with so much sweetness she could stay on this stool for a long while. This is her person she wants to keep forever.

Santana pulls her arms around her waist and stands; resting her upper body against Brittany's. Her own hands come to rest on the back of Santana's head as she runs her hand through the long lengths of hair and runs her fingertips along her scalp.

She moans lowly in her throat and their tongues become the best dance recital Brittany's ever been a part of.

Santana pulls back with unfocused eyes and puts her hand out for Brittany to take it.

She will after her heartbeat begins to slow and her legs feel strong enough to support her weight. It just gets faster when Santana's smile manages to take her breath away, her eyes turning to half moons and her smile is so wide Brittany feels light-headed.

"C'mon you," Santana starts good-naturedly, with her lips swollen and just ever so slightly out of breath, "we've got a film set to get to."

_I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. _

* * *

><p>"You know you're gunna be great today, right?"<p>

They are standing outside of Mulsanne near Santana's trailer in the lot as they sip on the last of their iced coffees, taking in each other. Brittany's eyes scan Santana's make-up free face happily; taking in just how beautiful she is.

She's not dumb enough to voice it aloud, especially in public with spies around but she just can't help herself from basking in Santana's presence.

It eerily quiet in the lot. Most of the hustle and bustle taking place inside the two large soundstages this morning.

Brittany's never been inside a soundstage before but she always imagines them to look like the Death Star from Star Wars.

Santana had been giving her tips on what to wear to the meeting throughout the journey since she was better at this thing and way more experienced than her at playing this sort of game.

Brittany grins and hides behind Santana's massive purse that she has lifted to shield her eyes from the mid-morning sun.

"Just be yourself." Santana finishes with a sigh.

"I'm gunna get an agent." Brittany states with her grin firmly in place.

Santana looks around shiftily, finding there's no one around them, she keeps her purse lifted and moves forward to give Brittany a chaste kiss on the lips.

"For good luck." She winks and walks away with a coy smile.

Brittany can stop the loving sigh escaping her as she watches Santana walk away.

* * *

><p>Lord Tubbington is sitting by the door with his favourite miniature top-hat perched atop his head when she opens the door to her apartment. She eyes him suspiciously, and wonders if he was having a poker tournament with the chain-smoking Chinese business students who lived down the hall. They liked to wear suits and smoke cigars when they had their poker nights – it's right up Lord Tubbington's alley.<p>

"I'm not letting you gamble away your savings." She states casually and he methodically moves his tail back and forth in reply.

_Busted_.

She shrugs off her jacket and throws it on the couch and steps out of her pants as she walks down the small hallway and into her room.

She has a few hours to kill before her meeting and there's nothing better than catching up on some sleep and being relaxed as possible. Caffeine or no caffeine she can still get some sleep.

She flounces onto her bed and snuggles into the covers. She grabs her laptop and the wire to connect her phone to the computer and transfers the photos from this morning onto her hard-drive

As she flicks through them absently on her photo editor application, she's not surprised to be impressed with her own work. Her body shapes are flaw free, and her smize is giving Tyra a run for her money. Her favourite is the last one. She's doing her catalogue laugh pose but instead of being in the full frame, Santana is standing behind her with her arms folded with a smirk and an eyebrow raised. Brittany loves it, and decides to make it as her wallpaper on her phone.

She sets her alarm and sets the laptop down on the floor and snuggles into her pillow. Her breathing even and her mind empty as she drifts off soundlessly with a smile on her face.

* * *

><p><em>Her vision is blurred; the world is spinning and the girl in front of her holds onto her like she's an anchor and she's about to fly away. <em>

"_What's your name?" She asks. _

_She hears a dog bark down the street, she hears the leaves rustle as the light breeze begins to pick up, but she doesn't get an answer. _

_The girl takes off her backpack of troubles and opens it up. She takes the now empty bottle from the pale hands and tenderly places a new, full bottle back into them. _

_The porch-light turns itself on like a beacon over the sea as she opens the door to her house and steps halfway inside. She doesn't want to leave where she sways merrily on the spot. _

_Her ears ring in the quiet of the night and she begins feel the warmth of her home engulf her. _

_She turns back around to the girl watching her precariously from her position on the steps. _

_She sways, concentrating on clearing her vision; taking in the girl who is bathed in the light like a halo. She looks like the most gleaming diamond in the rough of stone. Her eyes portray someone crying out for help. Brittany only wants to touch her. _

_She hears hesitations, whispered questions of her intent, but she concentrates on moving forward - removing the dark frames away from the mysterious girls face. _

_Her pale hands run tenderly over the smaller girls face. The dark eyes catch the light of the stars and she finds herself getting lost in whoever this person is. _

_Her vision suddenly clears. She feels sober as the menthol hits her cheek with ragged pace and matches her heartbeat that rings like a siren in the night. _

"_Pretty." She comments serenely before pressing her lips against the full and inviting lips of the dark-haired girl in front of her. _

_Time stops and the world stops spinning for a little while on the half-open porchway of her perfect house in suburbia. _

_The girl pulls away in with a whimper and runs back down the sidewalk they had previously staggered up only moments ago. _

_Then the world starts spinning and she sloppily slaps her fingers to her tingling lips. _

_She never got her name this time. _

* * *

><p>She's been waiting in the cold, sterile reception of Robert Michaels office for twenty minutes now, and really - her backside is starting to ache thanks to the uncomfortable leather chair that's so hard, it feels like sitting on a rock would be a better option.<p>

The peroxide blonde, faked-tanned-within-an-inch-of-crispy receptionist, with the teal coloured fake nails so long it looks like a challenge to even do anything, stares openly at her over the high metallic circular desk with blue and white LED lights around the rim. The cold and sterile contemporary black & white décor of the room makes Brittany feel like she's in the LA division of Men in Black.

It doesn't help that Brittany thinks the woman looks like an alien in a spaceship, which slightly intimidates her. She decides to stare blankly back.

The double doors with frosted glass open on the far side of the room and Brittany straightens out her simple silk vest she wears accompanied by her navy high-wasted shorts and leggings combo and plasters her best smile on her face.

She hears the man before she sees him; his brown brogue shoes tapping out a beat noisily as he walks out into the reception.

She watches as the man with gray pepping his brown hair walks with purpose towards her.

His grey suit is immaculate and tailored to fit his slim build and Brittany is impressed. His suave manner shows in his gait as she rises to meet him in a handshake as he stops in front of her.

His dark features show a man who's only gotten better looking with age. His mid-length hair is pulled back loosely behind his ears. He wouldn't look out of place in a fragrance add with the old-but-still-sexy models Brittany sees in the fashion magazines. Brittany wishes he smelt like one.

His musky cologne hits Brittany's nostrils in an unpleasant manner, almost causing her to sneeze.

"Brittany!" He smiles and speaks like he recognizes her and grabs her hand and pulls her forward, kissing both of her cheeks.

Brittany tries to play it off and goes along with it and replies with a polite "hello" and a winning smile.

"So, did you bring your dance gear?" He asks politely. His gruff voice implies heavy use of cigarettes.

Brittany holds up the canvas holdall and shoulders it soon after with a polite smile.

He nods his head and holds out an arm guiding Brittany out of the offices.

"Then lets see what you've got!"

She follows along to the elevators and replies politely to his attempts of small talk as they take the journey down to the ground floor and leave the high-rise glass building to enter a car waiting in the foyer with a burly chauffeur with sunglasses.

The BMW M3 ain't no Mulsanne, Brittany thinks.

* * *

><p>She's been in this dance studio many times before, but never has she had the floor all to herself. In a mass of thirty people it feels a lot smaller, but now as her movements echo around the room it's never felt so vast. So lonely.<p>

She stands in her disco shorts, leg warmers and floral bralet as she pulls out the iPod from her bag and peers over at Robert standing smiling by the entertainment system.

"So." She starts as she slaps her hands on her bare thighs, "What style would you like to see?"

He thinks for a moment, tapping his chin. He lets out a low hum and fixes her with narrowed eyes.

"Why don't you show me something that shows me _you_." He explains slowly. He throws his hands up in exasperation as he tries to further explain himself. "I don't know, is Hip-Hop you? Show me that? Jazz? Show me that."

Brittany creases her brow in concentration. It seems going for a simple warm up piece would be best. She normally likes to infuse a variety of styles, much like that Zumba dance exercise craze. She's not one to be boxed in.

"I'm not asking for Swan Lake here, I just want to see what you wanna show me."

She nods as he flashes his white teeth and folds his arms watching her with amusement.

She flicks through her iPod and chooses her favourite mix as she walks purposefully to the entertainment system.

"Shall I do the honours?" Robert smirks as he places his open palm out in front of him.

She shrugs and hands him the iPod.

She walks back into the middle of the room and closes her eyes, steadying herself. She thinks of her favourite brown eyes as the slow but beautiful string arrangement begins to play.

She's a frenzy of limbs and grace as her movements match the mix perfectly. Transfusing contemporary, jazz and hip-hop seamlessly together. This is a well-oiled piece that she only gets better with each time she practices.

She thinks of nothing but the feeling the music evokes, the torment, the pain, the abandonment dancing gives her. She smiles with each perfect arabesque, pouts saucily with each hard-hitting locking section. She's flawless.

The music ends and she holds her position low to the ground with her arms stretched above her, while she pants for breath. She drops her arms to her sides and the nose echoes ominously around the room. Brittany peers over to the man that holds her future in his fingertips.

He doesn't move. His eyes are curious and his head is tilted towards her. He says nothing and Brittany finds it slightly unnerving.

Brittany huffs slightly and walks over to her bag and begins to pat her face with her towel and spray her perfume. She stands and shoulders her bag and turns back to him awaiting her fate.

His expression has changed. He looks like he's hungry and she's the meal.

"So, you must be hungry, Brittany." He says evenly, "Let's do dinner."

He licks his teeth and grins widely over. His eyes are wide and glassy which gives him a manic look. Brittany feels a little like Red Riding Hood.

She gathers her things and nods politely. Despite feeling like she's one step away from being eaten by the big bad wolf - she thinks she's got this in the bag.

* * *

><p>"Girl after my own heart choosing sushi, Brittany. My other half is not a fan."<p>

They sit in the quiet of a Japanese restaurant, where quiet chatter is dulled by the dulcet tones of oriental music and chefs cooking in front of their customers.

"Alyson?" Brittany enquires while she stuffs a California roll into her mouth, looking shiftily around at the people near her in the half full restaurant in case anyone saw her eat with her hands.

She's in the clear. Well, apart from Robert who sits next to her on the long table but if he's doing it – so can she.

His sleeves are rolled up and a napkin his tucked into his waistcoat. He nods with a pleasant smile and chews methodically.

"So, tell me about yourself Brittany." He asks blithely attempting to eat a tuna sesame roll with his chopsticks.

"Well, I'm from Lima, Ohio. My favourite colour is yellow. I like to dance, sing, drive, My Little Pony, Ke$ha, and investigational journalism."

"You're a chauffeur right? You're drivin' Santana Lopez around right now?"

Brittany nods and takes a sip of her pink lemonade.

He hums deeply and takes a sip of his Martini.

"Aly's little protégée." He explains as his interest. "Talented girl." He continues absently.

"She's one of the sweetest people I've ever met."

He barks a laugh in disbelief and shakes his head like Brittany has said something funny. She frowns in confusion.

"What are you trained in?" He asks leaning forward when the loud sizzle of oil comes from the hot plate near them.

"Everything." She replies simply.

Robert rolls his eyes but it seems like Brittany said the right thing.

"How long you been dancing for?"

"My Mom said I could dance ever since I could walk." She presses a finger to her lip contemplating the age she actually started. She doesn't remember. She shrugs her shoulders. "So since then."

She pops another California roll in her mouth.

"I've been watching you for a while Brittany. I'm tight with Wayne Hollins and I know you've been taking his pop jazz class for a while now. He pointed you out in particular."

Brittany sits on her hands to stop bouncing in her seat.

"I mean you've always been good," He continues with the flick of his wrist, "But you've gotten even better since the last time I saw you."

"You got a hot body. Great tits," he lists off greasily. His leer doesn't go amiss, and Brittany turns her lips up into a pout. Gross.

"An ass to _die_ for."

Brittany stuffs a roll into her mouth and watches the waitress with the extremely short skirt pick up a dropped napkin.

"Legs for _days." _

She has legs for 34 inches but she's not in the mood to correct him right at this moment.

"_And y_eah the nose is a bit too big for your face…" Well that catches her attention. She stops chewing and eyes him with a critical look of her own under his scrutiny. "And your eyes are creepily inexpressive when you don't dance but it's all good because you're a hundred times hotter when you dance."

Brittany can only shrug. That is true.

He laughs and takes a sip of his Martini.

"Dancers like you come once in a blue moon, Brittany." He seems sincere and Brittany is slightly taken aback considering, "You shouldn't be dancing back up; you should be front and center!"

Brittany fiddles with her napkin, eager for him to continue.

"I'm glad Leonard told me you were driving Lopez 'round because it made my job a lot easier than me approaching you."

He chuckles to himself and winks at her while she chews on her straw.

"Of course you have to start small, we'll get you to all the invite-only auditions and see how it goes from there. You've got some decent jobs on your resume but it's a little light..."

"Do I need to up my light wattage or something?" Brittany interjects. Richard laughs and wipes his mouth on his napkin.

"It means, put on mascara and your party dress." His smile turns into the creepy grin from before. He takes a slow slip from his water glass and tuts nosily before placing the glass down slowly and keeping Brittany fascinated. "On behalf of ICM new faces division - I would like to represent you."

Nailed it.

* * *

><p>She doesn't call anyone. Not her Mom, nor her Dad, nor Tina, not even any of the Glee club she keeps up with on Facebook and Skype. Instead she drives up to the hills and sits atop Mulsanne with a vanilla milkshake waiting for the call to pick Santana up from set.<p>

Sure there's more exciting ways to celebrate, like meeting with friends, getting Tina to buy her some nice things, but she's happy to wait it out and pick up Santana and learn more about the girl who's been so close yet so far for so long.

She sits back, takes in the view and closes her eyes as she feels the late-afternoon heat hitting her face.

She feels free.

* * *

><p>"Ya know it was never in doubt you'd get an agent." Santana says casually as Brittany watches in the rear-view mirror while she flips through her gossip mag in the passenger seat. They're stuck in traffic, as usual, but it began to rain when she was waiting for Santana, and now rivets of water pool on the side of the highway. Brittany thinks this is worse case scenario weather, as her experience with LA drivers in the rain are not good the best.<p>

"It wasn't?" She asks hopefully.

"Of course not!" Santana replies incredulously. "I've never seen anybody dance as amazing as you do, Britt."

Brittany doesn't miss the hesitation in Santana's voice and she looks back at the girl with questioning eyes and a small smile on her face.

"You've seen me dance?" She questions quietly.

Santana nods slowly and averts her eyes back to the magazine.

"A couple of times actually."

Brittany moves the car two-car lengths forward and breaks again. Her ears are straining sense what will happen next.

"First time I saw you was when I walked passed your house on the first day of August when I was fourteen." She corrects herself softly, "When _we_ were fourteen."

Brittany watches her intently in the rear-view. Her brow is creased as she looks at the magazine; reading it has become long forgotten.

"I was really into walking around the 'burbs when I had nothing to do and I walked past your house when I walked back home that late afternoon."

Brittany strains her neck and turns to face Santana in the back.

"I used to walk past it a lot, but this was the first time I saw you lived in the house with the cute little rainbow unicorn figurine on the porch." Santana's cheeks seem to flush and the bashful look returns for a fleeting moment before her face becomes stoic, "I lived on Sanderson - just around the corner in Lima Heights Adjacent."

Brittany's eyes widen. She remembers the estate she used to cycle past all the time, she even went to Jefferson Hughes' - the extremely rich line-backer who threatened people with his money and his Mommy and Daddy's power - monthly parties. She used to feel intimidated every time she walked though the estate with the overly grand front lawns, and brick foundations. She never remembers getting home from the parties in the house on on the hill, but she used to always feel glad in a way that she didn't.

Santana's voice clouded with warmth and memories brings her back to the present.

"You were dancing in your garage to that Counting Crows song from Cruel Intentions."

"Colourblind." Brittany whispers.

Santana's smile is serene and her eyes shine brightly in ways that Brittany will never get used to. "I'd never seen anything or anyone as beautiful. You're hair just glowed. I mean - the way the light hanging above you in the garage hit – you looked like an angel. I was so fucking gone it was pathetic." There's that bitterness and her eyes look wild. "You stopped and you stared right at me. Like, really stared at me. I was terrified, so I ran away."

"Why?" Her voice is sad. She remembers being startled by the noise of something coming from the sidewalk. She remembers the dark eyes widening and disappearing. She ran out of the garage to catch who it was but they were gone without a trace. She never gave it much thought soon after, and went back into the garage and continued dancing.

"Because in case it wasn't obvious already, I'm kind of a coward."

She realises she's just as sad as she's always been, and the guilt is back in full force.

There are so many amazing things she could say to Santana yet all that whimpers out is a neatly packaged regret.

"I wish I knew you then. I really, really wish I did."

It rings hollow and she wants to facepalm herself for being so stupid.

She expects a rebuttal, something as soothing as "but you know me know." As if her ignorance didn't matter to her.

"Yeah." Santana says non-committally as she stares out the window watching the raindrops trickle slowly against the darkened window. "Me too."

* * *

><p>"Are you free tomorrow evening?" Santana asks as she scuffs her black mid-heeled pump against the concrete as she stands opposite Brittany.<p>

"No." She pauses, confused at the wording. "No wait, I'm mean – Yes, I am free."

Santana's demeanour, still subdued from earlier brightens slightly.

"Great. There's something I want to show you." Brittany sees the lust for a fleeting moment before her eyes become masks once again.

Brittany thinks it sounds super inviting.

She kisses her cheek and Brittany watches her walk up her driveway sadly. She's just so close, yet so far.

"Goodnight, Britt." She turns back demurely, "Until tomorrow."

* * *

><p>"I got an agent today."<p>

She walks through the door to her apartment to the sounds of Tina laughing along to a sitcom and the strong smell of Thai food, which makes her stomach rumble in hunger.

"That's great, Britt! But don't quit the day job just yet." Tina points out managing to suck the fun into her vacuum of charm. "You're doing awesome right now."

Brittany doesn't really want to think about that just yet as she sits down next to Tina on the couch.

"And Santana?" Tina enquires hopefully.

Brittany doesn't miss Tina eyeing her brand new bracelet. She dares her to ask her about it.

She doesn't. Brittany just shrugs nonchalantly and maybe, just maybe, grins.

"We're getting there."

She decides, she's not telling Tina she openly wept numerous times last night. She's not stooping down to her awful crying jags just yet. That was just a one-off appearance only.

Tina grins happily and pokes Brittany in the side.

"I got you some stir-fried coconut chicken." Tina says absently with her eyes on the TV and pointing over to the kitchen with her chopsticks. "Still warm."

Sometimes Tina isn't so bad.

"So Santana got super sexy didn't she?" Tina says nonchalantly some while later; her eyes firmly glued to the television. "Her Esquire editorial is super hot."

Brittany frowns and goes to collect her laptop to see what Tina is talking about.

As she enters the desktop she notices her background image has changed from a picture of Ke$ha pretending to throw up in a toilet-bowl to Santana - lounging sensually on an unmade bed, wearing nothing but an unbuttoned oversized shirt and undone bow-tie on a sunny morning, in a room overlooking the Hollywood hills.

Brittany gulps audibly.

Did you – Did you change my desktop wallpaper?"

Tina grins mischievously.

"Bitch."

* * *

><p><em>Thanks again for reading, everyone! Reviews and constructive criticism, as always, are welcomed.<em>

_Hopefully I'll manage to get the next chapter up by next week. The destination is getting closer..._


	18. Trials Of The Past

_Welp, sorry for the late update. My laptop and my backup drive crashed causing me to loose the rest of this story (among other things). Kind of a massive bummer there and I may be more than a little devastated. Anyway, I had a rough draft still around on my computer which is a little different to what I had completed, but still has the same outcome and themes in the closing out of the story. I'm not entirely happy with it but it gets us to where we need to be. Constructive criticism is as always, welcomed.  
><em>

_I can only hope you guys continue to stick it out. Thank you for doing so, so far._

_ I'm giving a slight **trigger warning** here. There's nothing explicit but it is implied.  
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_Songs on repeat this chapter - The XX - Islands, The XX - Crystalised and SBTRKT - Trials of the Past  
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* * *

><p>Brittany awakes before her alarm the same as she did the day previously. She didn't sing in the shower this time, nor did she fold her dance gear neatly into her holdall (She stuffed it messily without much thought) but she was ready and out in the door in record time again this morning.<p>

She doesn't really care to think about why she's so eager to get out the door now, although she knows why. She has a promise of something to get to, more time to spend with someone that makes her feel her best and worst – and she loves that. She just wants to go with the flow today, and flow she will.

She makes the familiar journey to her favourite local café to pick up her favourite Iced Coffees for Santana and herself before pick-up. It's rare she enters this café on a morning any more, opting to go somewhere closer to the studios, but today she felt she wanted to go back to the routine she started from when she first came to LA.

The bell rings as she enters the small and quaint café that is calm and quiet before the morning rush from busy people who need their caffeine.

She spies Carly absently re-arranging teas. It's been a while since she's seen her. Her hair is now a dramatic dip-dyed black and blonde, and her dark eye-liner is applied heavily to hide the dark circles under her eyes in the early morning.

Carly greets her happily and Brittany returns her warm smile with a wave.

"Two?" She asks lifting two plastic cups, marker in hand to write out the order.

Brittany nods and bounces on her feet. Her fingers dance around the edges of the counter as she watches her order be made.

"How's life?" Carly implores genially.

Brittany shrugs with a small half-smile and moves to play with the teas on the counter.

"Good."

"I never see you around the parties anymore," her eyes dance playfully over the blender, "You should do something about that."

Brittany used to be a permanent fixture at the parties in their apartment block. Most of the people who lived there were young, hot, and trying to break into showbiz in one way or another, and Brittany was always going to be one of them. But as time has gone on – and she fell harder and harder – she didn't really see the point in making appearances or getting her stripper on in drinking to excess as much as she used to.

Doesn't mean she doesn't miss it a little.

"Yeah. Maybe." Brittany replies with no intent to do anything about it at all. "I work a lot now."

Carly eyes her dubiously for a moment before giving her a playful smirk and puts one of the Iced coffee's on the counter.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" She asks nonchalantly.

Brittany shrugs much the same way as before. Carly smiles in return.

"I see all the time."

Carly winks and stops the piercing noise of the blender with her smirk firmly back in place. Brittany eyes her curiously; thinking what her current relationship status actually is.

"You should bring 'em along sometime." Carly says breezily, placing the second iced coffee down onto the counter and running her hands through her hair soon after.

Brittany smiles like she has the biggest secret and takes the coffees and leaves the café with a wave.

Well it's not like they're Facebook official but they're definitely heading somewhere in the right direction. And just the thought of that makes her break out into the goofiest grin as places her sunglasses on her face, and she gets back into Mulsanne and onto the journey that has become second nature to her in these recent months.

She plays her new mega-morning mix and nods along happily, basking in the lack of severe LA traffic on her way to Santana's.

She swipes her card through the barriers, glowers at the creepy-faced security guard reading Playboy and drives up the long road to get to the pretty house up the hill.

Santana answers the door with a wave and beckons her inside as she holds her cell phone close to her ear.

Brittany shuts the door quietly as Santana paces in slow circles, biting the inside of her thumb. She's dressed more casually today. Instead of the sexy office worker look, she's gone for the oversized shirt dress.

Brittany has flashbacks of taking in Santana's Esquire spread thanks to Tina and her meddling ways. The over-sized shirt played a large part in those images (and a large part in Brittany's dreams. Like, her taking it off slowly) and so did her sexiness. They were moody, elegant and classy but Brittany can't stop herself from leaning against the door to take in just how much more beautiful Santana is to her own eyes.

(Although this oversized shirt is buttoned up and belted, extenuating the curves her hands fit so perfectly on, and the legs she wishes so badly to touch. The dreams are coming back)

Her eyes travel over the caramel skin rakishly, savouring each place her eyes can see until she lifts her eyes above neck-level. It's then she sees Santana is staring back at her and all she can feel is how overwhelmingly stuck in the moment she is.

Her breath hitches as the girl in front of her stops to turn towards her position at the doorway and catches her with a warm smile. The phone begins to slowly move away from her ear and her look softens. The feeling in Brittany's chest, that's quickly becoming a part of who she is, only grows larger.

Brittany gulps audibly and Santana's stare only grows more loving. She is so _gone_.

Santana's smile turns to a smirk and she beckons Brittany to follow with the shake of her head. Brittany hears the sounds of angry garb on the other side of the phone that hangs absently in the darker girl's hands.

"I'm still here." Santana says dryly to the voice on the other side of the phone. Brittany can practically hear the rolling of her brown eyes as they walk along to the kitchen.

Brittany can't gather a lot from the conversation apart from a lot of 'uh huh' and 'yeah' from Santana's side. Brittany watches Santana as she goes to sit at the kitchen island swivelling back and forth on the stool. Her face is pensive as she nips her upper lip with her finger and thumb.

She saunters around the Island and give Brittany her burrito with a passing smile and holds up a finger before leaving the kitchen to go somewhere more private.

Brittany strains her hearing to listen where Santana is in the house, but it is met with the ringing of silence. She shrugs and decides to play her morning playlist on a low volume as she eats her burrito.

Santana walks back into the kitchen with a dramatic sigh and flounces onto the stool next to Brittany. Brittany takes her Iced Coffee out of the carton and places it next to Santana.

"I've been given my itinerary for the next few weeks." She explains holding her phone up before placing it down onto the counter. "Guess who's doing a whirl-wind press trip around Europe in two weeks time?"

"Is it you?" Brittany answers demurely, then taking a bite from her burrito.

Santana nods slowly and rests her head against her hand.

"Should be fun." Santana says simply. Her face is impassive and gives away nothing else.

Brittany feels like there's something Santana's not telling her, but she doesn't question it, instead making work of her burrito and nodding along to the bouncy beat of 90's house music coming from her phone.

"So you're Esquire editorial is good." Brittany mumbles with her mouth embarrassingly full as she chews on the last of her burrito.

"Thanks." The blush that begins to tint her cheeks is adorable and Brittany lets out a blissful sigh as Santana looks out the window with a ponderous gaze.

"It's funny." It doesn't sound funny at all, "A year ago I wouldn't have even of dreamed of doing anything like that. Sure, that whole Latina sexiness is kind of my market." She rolls her eyes before continuing, "But I hadn't ever done something so like, _sexy_ before, ya know?"

Brittany dreams of doing things like that all the time. Get some songs she can dance along to and she'll happily pull some sexy shapes for the camera in various state of undress.

When you've got it, flaunt it.

She chews on the straw of her coffee and inquires gently,

"What changed?"

Santana shrugs. Her eyes widen in a way her own do when she realises she's left her hair straighteners turned on in her room when she's in the middle of dance class.

"My willpower."

Santana laughs at something Brittany can only frown in confusion at. She makes a mental note to change her desktop wallpaper to a different image. Tina is such a failure.

She turns the music on her phone off, and slurps nosily on the last of her coffee, peaking over to watch Santana as she drinks her own coffee. The raspy clearing of her throat causes Brittany to observe Santana closer.

Santana rolls up her sleeves methodically and pats her breast pocket of her shirt before removing a small black velvet pouch.

She gulps slightly when Santana takes the bag and puts it so fondly into her own paler hands.

She shrugs casually and looks up at Brittany through her lashes.

Brittany wonders, with wide eyes, if Santana is ever going to stop giving her things.

She opens the drawstring pouch and takes out the small item inside. It's another charm for her bracelet. This time a camera with a sparkling stone as the flash that looks a lot like diamond.

"I got this one when I was seventeen." Santana starts easily and takes Brittany's right wrist gently to unclasp the bracelet. "You were going through that constant camera in your hand phase." Her smile matches her movement. Tender and loving.

Junior year, she had visions of becoming a famous celebrity blogger the world over. Kind of like a less gross, more sexy version of Perez Hilton. But that took time and money she didn't want to spend on doing things on the Internet, so she went back to her big dream of becoming a cultural icon the classier way. Sitting in front of the computer all day getting fat was not her idea of fun.

That camera still makes frequent appearances for other activities though.

"How many of these do you have?" Brittany asks in wonderment.

Santana only gives her a half-smile in return.

"I came to LA with very little." She says absently, in a voice that goes beyond this beautiful kitchen. Her hands work nimbly on threading the charm onto the bracelet, placing it back on to Brittany's wrist carefully, before speaking in a softer tone than before. "I think it's a sign from some God that I had them with me when I came here."

"Thank you." Brittany feels the words sticking in her throat like hard candy. "So much."

Santana shakes her head bashfully before catching Brittany's eyes, and bringing her hand under Brittany's chin. The air becomes stagnant and Brittany brings her hand to wrap around Santana's wrist.

"No, thank _you_."

Brittany is practically light-headed as she takes in Santana's serene manner; her eyes dance over her face and stop on her lips.

And when Santana smiles so beautifully it makes Brittany feel like the sun could set, she thinks maybe this all of this was fated from the beginning.

* * *

><p>"I'm looking forward to tonight." She slurps on her second iced coffee for the day as she pulls open the door for Santana to step out on to the semi-vacant lot of the studio.<p>

"Yeah." It's calm and composed, and Brittany begins to feel the exact opposite, "Me, too."

They draw themselves closer and she takes the sunglasses away from her face and looks around shiftily, her blue eyes squinting in the morning sun as she peers down at shorter girl who runs her finger down the bridge of her nose, chewing on her minty gum noisily.

The cool, minty breath hits her cheek and her eyes flutter close, her lips puckered and ready.

Until she's startled by a swift tap of her nose and a giggle fills her ears.

Her body is pushed back lightly into the body of Mulsanne and her eyes catch Santana sauntering away, looking back with a playful smirk and her sunglasses still low on the bridge of her nose.

"Later, Britt Britt."

That devilish smirk, the playful look in her dark eyes is all for Brittany. She knows what she does to her, and Brittany's totally fine with that. She kind of loves it.

Although denying her was totally rude, she can deal.

* * *

><p>The rest of the day is largely uneventful. She goes to dance rehearsals with Sonia, only to end up getting a new job - assistant choreographer. Which is awesome, and good pay (Tina will be happy), and it reminds her how much she misses helping people learn how to dance.<p>

Brittany can't stop the feeling enveloping her like a warm blanket – things are really starting to come together.

She's walking out of the studio with a skip in her step when Tyler rings her begging her to pick up his dry cleaning. Which she does – for seventy dollars.

She's not doing favours for people who are kind of her friends in Mulsanne when she's on call. She's far too precious a car for that.

What can she say? She is an equal opportunist after all.

She stops by his house with the four large suit carriers and he opens the door with a face covered in stubble and red board shorts. His normally perfectly styled hair is mused and unkempt and Brittany kind hates how good he still manages to look.

Although he looks slightly pitiful as he sits on his porch steps, patting the space next to him urging her to sit.

Her knee cracks nosily as she bends down which causes Tyler to grimace. She grins toothily at his discomfort.

"How's the 'ship going?" He asks like he knows already.

"I think we're having a date tonight."

"At Santana's?"

"I think so." Brittany's brow furrows in confusion, "I didn't think to ask."

"Well it's not like she can drive you anywhere as a surprise." He replies dryly, "Besides, more time for the extra-curricular activities." He wiggles his eyebrows comically and Brittany can't stop the giggle escaping her throat and he pokes her side causing both of them to crease over laughing.

It feels good, and when the laughter dies down Brittany can only survey the paving of Tyler's large driveway contently.

She finds Tyler watching her closely when she dusts off her pants and turns back towards him. When she stares back blankly, he still doesn't stop. His blue eyes are piercing but warm, and Brittany begins to feel her cheeks redden.

"What?" She asks self-consciously. She scratches her face and plays with the ends of her hair.

"Love looks good on you." He says kindly. His smile softens before he grins broadly. "It's good on your eyebrows too."

* * *

><p>She leaves Tyler's with the promise to pick him up tomorrow to go to set with Santana and go to a paparazzi "hotbed" for lunch near the studios. He brightens at that; obviously not used to the extra amounts of free time he has at the moment.<p>

Brittany thinks he should make the most of it, and she likes helping people sometimes.

She gets a text from Santana earlier than usual asking them to meet in her trailer before they leave set today. Brittany didn't really think much of it, production is closing on set soon, she imagined Santana had items she wanted to move from the trailer and she was happy to help.

The trailer door is ajar, but as she gets closer she sees it is occupied by a much paler figure than Santana's. There's muffled voices, one calm and light like a feather that she knows is Alyson's voice.

Brittany hears talking from the other side of the thin walls of the trailer.

"Do you want me to manage you again?" The voice says, like she's repeating a question already asked. "I began to think I was holding you back in the end." Her tone becomes amused, "Besides, you weren't very receptive to my idea about your little situation recently."

"Oh, you always held me back." Santana replies dryly before it sobers darkly. "I didn't like it, but I did it. I know it was for the best."

There's a pause, filled with something Brittany wishes she could observe.

"We were a good team, weren't we?" Alyson asks melodically, "You, me and Gary."

"Yeah." Comes from Santana. Her voice is soft and warm like honey, "We were."

There's no bitterness or anger in Santana's tone, it's only wistful and calm, and Brittany begins to wonder if something has happened (good or bad) for the change. The unease she usually feels is still as she wonders when to announce her presence.

There's silence for a while (or words that are too quiet for Brittany to overhear) and she decides now is the best time to knock on the door.

She doesn't have to wait long before the door is opened further and there stands Alyson, with her long-blonde hair pushed to the right side of her face and her attire business-casual. The navy pencil skirt that stops above the knee hugs her figure perfectly, and Brittany is slightly envious of how effortlessly she wears the simple cotton dress. Her make-up is light and her green eyes are clear but murky with melancholy.

Her face breaks out into a striking smile as she takes in Brittany with her hat in her hand and hair messily tied back.

"Hello, Brittany!" Alyson greets her politely, grabbing Brittany lightly by the shoulders, urging her into the trailer.

Santana waves at Brittany from her place on the bed with a shy smile on her face. Brittany only gazes affectionately back.

"Congratulations, by the way!" Alyson's voice is sincere and friendly as she pats Brittany's shoulder lightly. "Robert is lining up all the necessary contacts as we speak!"

Her face quickly starts to feel hot and looks down at her shoes before nonchalantly throwing her hair, loose and messy, over her shoulder.

"Thanks." It comes out like a huff and she plays it off by tapping the metal of the trailer door.

Santana watches them both carefully from her position on the edge of the bed; her face is impassive but intrigued. Brittany finds it all slightly interesting.

Alyson turns to Santana on the bed with a polite smile and words behind her eyes Brittany wish she could see.

"Santana," She starts politely. Brittany watches Santana carefully as her dark eyes narrow curiously, "Would you mind if I had a word with Brittany?"

Brittany wonders why the striking woman didn't ask _her_ if it was okay to speak with her.

Santana is silent for a few moments, her eyes are narrowed to slits, and her expression gives very little away. She looks inquisitive for a moment before shrugging absently, and waving a flippant hand towards the door.

"If Brittany doesn't mind."

Brittany's curiosity at Santana's sudden ease around Alyson only increases. The tension that fills her when the beautiful woman is around seems to have subsided.

Alyson smiles sweetly over to Santana with that look reserved just for Santana once again, before turning back to face Brittany. Her piercing green eyes catch her own blue ones as she moves away from the door and follows her down the stairs.

She shrugs and walks down the stairs and moves to lean against the trailer as she watches Alyson clasps her hands together.

Moments pass with only observation, until Alyson crosses her arms, and taps her heel against the asphalt.

"You may think I'm be speaking out of turn, but I need to give a bit of a warning before Gary tries to get his hands on you."

The severity of Alyson's tone worries Brittany. Her words are crisp and concise, cutting through Brittany's blank gaze easily.

Also the thought of Gary and his hands coming anywhere near her, more than just a little creeps her out.

She crosses her arms and keeps her face impassive as the green eyes of the taller woman in front of her studies her face carefully.

"This _thing_ you have with Santana." Her tone is even and careful. The lightness of her voice is lost as she stresses each word. Brittany feels intimidated, and slightly nervous that she's speaking about Santana and herself like they're such a sure thing (well she thinks they are anyway but that is besides the point).

"You won't be able to be open and public with your relationship. I need to know you understand that."

Brittany nods slowly. Alyson moves closer, close enough Brittany can smell her strong perfume – woody with hints of vanilla - permeating the air.

"I'm not here to scare you away, by any means." Alyson says with a polite smile, "I just want to ensure that Santana's progress, and now yours, will not be compromised."

Her ease falters and Brittany tilts her head, looking for any more chinks in the woman's infallible ways.

"Your life is about to change. Santana's already has."

Brittany bites her lip with worry. This is only voicing the worries she already had, but she knows what she knows, and wants what she wants.

Alyson's flashes her a wan smile, before continuing in a softer tone.

"You catch me as the free and open type, and while I admire you for that, envy you even – some people can't afford to be like that." A dark shadows casts over Alyson's expression before she catches Brittany's blank gaze once again. "Santana is one of those people."

Brittany sets her jaw and swallows thickly. She gets it, even though she doesn't really see why people can't be free to be who they are. It makes her feel sad and she doesn't ever want to dwell on it for too long because she knows it's worth it. She's found something worth keeping.

She squares her shoulder and lifts her chin in defiance and speaks with as much poise and conviction she's ever had.

"She's worth it."

Alyson nods slowly. Her smile wistful as she brings her hand to catch Brittany's and squeezes it fleetingly. Her hands are cold. Her wedding ring is even colder.

Her green eyes shine like eyes about to cry, but sooner than Brittany sees them, they're vanishing with a blink of her thick lashes.

"Yes, she is."

The moment is gone and Alyson brightens instantly, her effortless smile back in place before squeezing Brittany's arm.

"Well, that's all I have to say for now! Watch what you're doing, etcetera, etcetera and good luck!"

Alyson begins to turn around, to make her way back to the trailer, and Brittany is about to follow her when the taller woman stalls and turns back to meet her blue gaze with a mask of impenetrable calm.

"She lights up so brightly around you, Brittany." The tenderness in her voice sends warmth into Brittany's already special place inside reserved for Santana.

She stands tall and bold and she sends a fleeting but meaningful look back to Brittany. "Treat _each other_ well."

She's already made that promise to herself.

She follows the taller woman back into the trailer to find Santana speaking angrily into her phone.

Alyson smiles affectionately and rolls her eyes as Brittany watches Santana look pointedly at Alyson mouthing something she doesn't understand.

Alyson ignores the girl on the bed - who gestures angrily and comically glares with her teeth bared in a sneer - and moves to the other side of the trailer to the desk with various items littering it.

Santana ends the phone call with a dramatic huff and falls back onto the bed nosily. She looks exasperated and her eyes are wide and bright. Brittany thinks she looks adorable.

"I'm sick of this shit!"

"I'll speak with Gary and the agency for you." Alyson says a little too ambiguously for Brittany but then she remembers she was eavesdropping. Alyson's voice softens as she stops in the middle of the trailer with her phone and clipboard picked up from the desk.

Her shoulders square and she runs a trembling hand through her blonde hair, she smiles a secret smile full of contradictions, but mostly just sadness. Brittany really just thinks she just really needs a hug. So when she nears her own place by the doorway and she catches her eyes Brittany makes her move to give her the beariest bear hug she can.

Brittany wraps her arms around the taller woman, resting her head softly on her shoulder. She smells the strong perfume on her neck and the smell of watermelon from her shampoo, and as she feels the thin arms wrap slowly around her back with a quiet, shuddery breath it's over. Really though, Brittany feels happy she could give her bear hug special for someone that she doesn't want to hug with her legs today.

Alyson straightens her dress and flicks her hair over her shoulder with a sigh. Her green eyes catch her own with grateful intent.

It looks a lot like 'thank you'.

Brittany nods in respect, or something a lot like it.

"Well, I'll leave you two alone for now." Alyson says with innuendo clouding her voice subtly. Her smile is composed and gleaming as she begins to make her way down the steps. "Congratulations again, Brittany and I shall see you both later!"

Brittany watches her go with a sad smile that only gets brighter as she watches Alyson strut away in her stiletto heels better than anyone she's ever seen.

Except herself, obviously. Nobody can dance and strut in heels better than she does.

When she turns back into the trailer to greet Santana with a greeting the way she wants to (kissing obviously), she finds dark eyes watching her scrupulously.

"What was that?" Santana asks with an arched brow.

Brittany shrugs gloomily before giving Santana a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Sometimes, people just really need a hug."

She watches the indifferent features of the darker girl on the bed carefully. There's very little to give away but watch she does. Brittany doesn't miss the sorrowful look flicker across Santana's face before she moves towards her and wraps her up in her own very special, bear hug.

The jigsaw pieces start to fit together, but their hugs are the biggest and best fit of them all.

* * *

><p>They walk side-by-side as they make their way back to the parking lot, while she holds Santana's box full of trinkets and personal items, taken from the trailer. It makes Brittany realise just how near the end of filming is, which makes her feel sad but excited for the future for both herself and Santana.<p>

It's the first time, Brittany decides, to watch how the people who walk around the vast lot act around Santana with great interest. The dark-haired girl walks around with her head held-high and her face impassive as she struts by in her sunglasses and elegantly pinned-back hair. The crew-members avoid eye contact with her and jog along hastily as they walk past. Brittany watches her carefully but there's nothing to give away behind her sunglasses, as the sun has well and truly began to set and garish floodlights begin to turn on inside the premises.

Brittany stays silent until Mulsanne comes into view.

"So what's the plan for tonight?" She asks quietly taking Santana's bag from her and opening the passenger door.

"Well, I was gunna cook…"

Brittany can tell by her hesitancy and weariness that Santana is kind of over that idea now. She's not disappointed; in a way cooking would mean less attention on her. She doesn't mind, she'd happily waste time doing nothing with Santana.

"Restaurant?" Brittany suggests lightly.

Santana is quiet for a moment, thinking before looking back to Brittany with a small smile.

"Take-out? We could just curl up on the couch and, I don't know, talk for a while?" Brittany doesn't miss the hopeful tone in Santana's voice and it makes her stomach do flips.

"I think that sounds awesome!"

Santana giggles at Brittany's excitement, and her stomach does flips all over again.

She settles into her seat and puts her seatbelt on before turning back to Santana who checks her phone after it bleeping numerous times.

"Can we stop by a liquor store, by the way?" Santana enquires absently as she concentrates on replying to a text message, "I have zero alcohol." She continues sheepishly.

Brittany gives her a knowing grin.

"Is it okay if we stop at my place too?" Brittany asks in return as she turns on the engine and turns back to Santana. "Because, this," Brittany slides her hands down her sides, "cramps my style."

Santana nodes with a hidden smile and Brittany sets Mulsanne to drive.

* * *

><p>"That is one fat cat!"<p>

Lord Tubbington is sitting on the couch watching some important news show Brittany doesn't know the name of when she walks through the door with Santana walking in behind her.

He did nothing but send an unimpressed look over the armrest of the couch before going back to watching the television at Santana exclamation.

The coast was clear, and she made sure Tina wasn't home before she let Santana out of the car. She was more than willing to wait, but Brittany wanted her to see where she lives and wait in a more homely environment without Tina the awkward maker to ruin it.

And yes she could have text Tina but she lies and Brittany isn't dumb enough to know Tina would lap up any opportunity to see a famous person.

Brittany knows her humble apartment is not a patch on Santana's beautiful home but it's hers and it's not like they're going to be in it very long.

She leaves Santana in the living area to sit on the couch (without squashing Lord Tubbington as he splayed out in the centre) as she runs around her room trying to find something decent to wear. She doesn't want to go too casual or too dressy. She finds her favourite teal dress that's far too skimpy to wear just itself, so she rakes through her drawers to find a shirt to layer it with.

She finds the perfect purple shirt that causes her cleavage to magnify a cup size or two, when she's interrupted but the unmistakable sounds of discomfort coming from the other room.

"_Um, Britt!"_ comes the unsure voice of Santana. Brittany throws her shirt on, and paces back to the living area to find Lord Tubbington sitting on the armrest of the couch, peering just that little too closely at Santana.

Her presence in the room doesn't cause either of the inhabitants in the room to acknowledge her; being far too busy trying to out-stare the other.

"I think your cat wants to eat me."

Lord Tubbington's gaze narrows at Santana before looking at Brittany fleetingly before staring once more.

"Don't call him fat or make any food references," Brittany says affronted on behalf of Lord Tubbington, "He's very insecure about his weight."

Incredulity clouds Santana's features.

"Well, maybe he should do something about it!"

Brittany shakes her head and puts her hands on her hips.

"Like what?"

"Go for a walk around the block?" She says with a shrug of her shoulders. "I hear that helps sometimes." Santana smirks at the cat in challenge of him to do something.

He only blinks.

Brittany fears he may throw up an opportunistic fur-ball in Santana's face. He's done it to people she's brought home plenty of times before, and she wants to keep Santana around a hell of a lot longer than those ones. A furball to the face may scar both of them for life.

Brittany watches them carefully as Santana and Tubbs has one of those Mexican bean stare-off things she always remembers seeing in the old Western movies her Dad loves. Neither is willing to concede and Brittany begins to gnaw on her lip in worry.

But suddenly, Lord Tubbington lifts his head sharply, and ready to pounce (which Brittany knows is not going to happen. He is rather an apathetic character after all. Santana doesn't know that however).

Santana jolts, and instead of pouncing, he stretches his body and crawls over Santana to sit next to her. He gets comfortable, crosses his paws and his attention returns back to the television.

Brittany grins giddily. That was the biggest sign of approval Santana is ever going to get.

Santana flashes a look of exasperation over to Brittany before turning back to the television.

"I'll just finish getting ready." Brittany says quietly with the biggest of smiles firmly in place.

As she leaves the room, she doesn't miss Santana tentatively bring her hand over Lord Tubbington's fur as he settles further down.

* * *

><p>Brittany's pushed into the wall as soon as the door to Santana's house is opened. Her hands are full with bags of Chinese food and her are lips pressed against the fuller ones of Santana's nipping light kisses against her lips. She falls further into the wall and wraps her bag-full-hands low on Santana's narrow waist and presses her in closer.<p>

Her chest heaves when Santana pushes herself away, wiping her mouth with her fingertip.

"I've wanted to do that all day." Her voice is thick with desire sending warmth, and tightness to her belly and somewhere a lot lower than that.

Brittany gulps. This could turn out to be a night to test her defences.

There's a look in Santana's eye – predatory, lust-filled and hungry that makes Brittany weak at the knees. She drops the bag of food as Santana prowls closers towards her. It reminds her of a panther stalking it's pray, and Brittany can only stare wantonly at the darker girl's curves and movements. She's completely enraptured.

The hands gripping her hips move lower, and rest on her thighs, flexing and squeezing her defined muscles. The ministrations and the assault of kisses and nips on her pulse point cause her eyes heavenward.

They move from wall to wall, push and pull, her purple shirt lost in the foray, her breath quickens and her hands become desperate as she tries to find the buttons on Santana's dress.

She feels a hand lifting her dress as they reach the living room when suddenly she remembers what's she's doing.

"I. Can't." It's half-hearted and weak and Brittany is shocked she managed to find any semblance of resolve with each bruising kiss.

"Do want this?" Santana whispers hotly between kisses as she pushes them hastily down onto the couch.

The familiar warmth begins to pool low in her belly. It's coiled tight and ready to explode. She needs this but knows there's something from stopping her from fully let go.

Their hips press together as Santana straddles her. She gasps at the pleasing pressure and find her hips beginning to work against her own violation.

_Lies. _

"I want you so badly."

She's not sure who says it. The voice is thick with arousal and gravely in a way kissing and sexiness can evoke in a person. Her hands run over the curves of the girl straddling her. She runs her hands across the lower back of the skin so perfectly smooth and tan.

She gasps blissfully when Santana begins to trail her fingers over the dampness of her panties.

Santana pushes their hands high above their heads easing out teasing kisses that has Brittany gasping for air and a whole lot more.

"Do you want this?" Santana asks again seriously. Brittany mourns the loss of the hand that was trailing so desperately close to her special place.

"Yes..." Brittany trails off breathlessly and moves forward to have Santana where she wants her. She has multiple visions of a mini Carl and his ninja spies circling like cartoons around her head.

"But?"

Brittany thinks Santana looks like a bossy dominatrix with her stern expression and swollen lips. She peers down through her thick lashes with her eyes narrowed, watching Brittany intently.

She shakes her head and runs a hand through her now messy blonde hair.

"I'm the worst liar ever, and my boss has already given me a warning not to do anything," She pauses, looking down at their state of undress and heaving bosoms, "like _this_ until this film thing finished." Brittany bites her lip in worry and looks up into Santana's unfocused gaze. "I like being employed." She squeaks almost a little pathetically.

Santana presses a sweet kiss to her lips before moving back.

"Then we'll wait." She swings her legs off of her place straddling Brittany and stands tall.

Brittany feels sticky in all the good places and the dull ache that coiled in her belly feels the loss of contact.

"So food is a good place to start," Santana smirks while she observes Brittany's flustered state. "I'll get to it."

Brittany slaps her hand to her sweaty forehead, ruing her stupid conscience.

* * *

><p>She goes to the bathroom to freshen up, because she kind of needed it. It took her at least five minutes to find a bathroom she knew was on the ground floor of the house before collapsing against the door and throwing cold water over her face.<p>

She takes in her flustered state, her dress that is barely hanging on her shoulders, her lip gloss that is only left in peach smudges and hair that is mused in only a way frantic hands can do. She manages to tidy herself up only to return to the living room with a smirking Santana watching her.

When she returns, Santana has plates and the food set out on the large coffee table, and candles lit around the room. It's cosy and inviting, and the light reflecting in Santana's eyes makes her feel dizzy. When she sits, Santana smiles and hands her a plate. They eat quietly. Shy glances and conversations about their day filter lightly through the small pocket of electricity that surrounds them on the oversized couch.

It feels like they're waiting for something, and Brittany isn't sure if that is a good thing.

Jazzy and relaxing music filters through the house soothingly, when Santana comes back with a fresh bottle of wine and lemonade.

_"We can make Spritzers,"_ Santana said when they were in the liquor store. _"We do have work in the morning after all."_

Brittany hadn't had them before. She usually thinks wine tastes like vinegar but enjoys the taste of the mostly lemonade concoction she sips on.

Vanilla from the candles, scent the room and Brittany swirls the half empty glass in her hand absently, while she traces patterns on the back of Santana's heel from their place resting just below her own on the couch.

"I think the best way to get around this is to ask me questions." Santana says evenly, shaking Brittany out of her reverie.

"Okay." Brittany says slowly, watching Santana get comfortable in the corner of the large couch, moving her legs away from Brittany. Brittany thinks she looks like she getting ready to be hit by a linebacker or something that's going to be physically gruelling the way she squares her narrow shoulders and puffs out her chest.

She knows she should take it seriously, that Santana would feel the need to ready herself in such a dramatic manner, but the giggles bubble out and Santana looks only looks slightly wounded. Brittany only rolls her eyes playfully in return.

She knows she needs to tread lightly, and for her own sake, she's not going to push Santana too hard. So when the giggles die down and she clears her throat she takes a deep breath and keeps her voice quiet.

There are so many things she could ask, but she starts with something she has wondered since Santana mentioned her mother being the reason she was ever in Lima.

"So." She starts casually, "Where's your Mom?"

The reply is instant, and flippant.

"Back in Lima, maybe?" Santana shrugs. "I haven't spoken to her for a long time. And I certainly don't miss her either." She adds bitterly and snorts.

Brittany couldn't imagine not talking to her Mother. She speaks to her fleetingly these days but she knows she's always a phone call away if she ever needs her. It reminds her to ring her parents soon.

"How come your Dad wasn't in Lima?"

"They separated." Santana shrugs again as she runs her finger around the ring of her glass. "One day my Mom and Dad were together, then the next - my Mom is waking me up in the middle of the night throwing my things into a suitcase. She just uprooted us from New York and took me along for the ride."

Brittany takes a sip from her glass and ponders how it would feel to be uprooted without any warning. She doesn't mind change, but when it involves moving to somewhere different to what you're used to without being able to prepare must be difficult.

She decides to change tack.

"Alyson seems to care a lot about you."

Santana scoffs and throws her head back. Brittany gets sexy thoughts as her laugh vibrates through the couch and right into her chest.

_Focus. _

"Of course she does. She didn't earn her percentage for nothin'."

Brittany looks on sadly.

"I'm not blind, you know." She starts quietly, hesitating when Santana's gaze turns fiery. "I've seen the way she looks at you."

Her hard gaze breaks and becomes remorseful.

"I've treated her like shit." Santana says mournfully. "I just want her to get mad, you know?" Santana asks rhetorically staring at the wall in front of her. "She's always willing to call me out on all my other bullshit, but the one thing that she should, she doesn't."

Santana eyes Brittany carefully. Brittany used to see only bitterness, but now she sees the sadness of somebody who can't change things for the better.

"Do you miss her?" Brittany asks curiously. She wouldn't be mad even if she did.

Santana only says nothing and presses her lips into a thin line.

"It's okay if you do."

Santana nods once before slouching back into the couch.

"I miss what she did for me." It sounds finite, and when she looks at Santana's profile, she sees the hard set of her jaw portraying nothing but indifference.

Brittany thinks that's all she'll ever get.

They don't speak for a while, and Brittany nibbles daintily as she possibly can on the gooey raspberry mini-cake Santana placed on the coffee table for dessert. It's nice and she has to refrain from gobbling the entire plate in a sloppy mess. She's glad she doesn't manage to get the jam on her dress, and is able to keep her mouth closed while chewing. That's progress, at least. Santana catches her eye with a small smile.

"What was life for you like?" Brittany asks hesitantly, "Back in Lima?"

Her smile vanishes, as a frown takes over.

"It was." She hesitates, trying to find the words. Her eyes are vacant and desolate. "Lonely."

Brittany can't stop the prickly feeling of tears forming.

She watches the mixture of expressions pass over Santana's face before she grimaces thinly.

"I didn't have any friends and my Mom was never home unless she wanted something so I just did my own thing." She takes a long pull from her glass, and Brittany watches, captivated by the bobble of her neck as she swallows.

She wipes her mouth with there back of her hand before grabbing the wine bottle and topping her up her glass, leaving out the Spritz.

"It was my fault though." Santana continues with a shrug after taking a gulp from her glass, "'Sides, people seemed to be scared of me ever since the day I kicked Puckerman in the balls and I kinda liked it that way."

Brittany bites her lip in guilt.

"How did your Dad find you?" She asks carefully.

Santana takes another drink.

"He found my Mom in Columbus, and then he found me."

Brittany's not sure what to say. Santana looks anguished, as she stares at the floor of her living room. Her stare is glassy. She looks like a girl who became a woman far too early.

"I was in Lima General" Her is low and thick, "He found me there."

Brittany thinks back to the filming of _that_ scene in the desert with the violence and the blood, and it churns her stomach and feels blood rushing to her ears.

She remembers Tyler's words to her and what she found out that Saturday with the brunch and the weird phonecall.

"Why were you in hospital?" Brittany whispers.

Santana continues frantically like she never heard her question,

"His random ass visit to that hospital got me away from that place. It was supposed to be my time; I felt it when I – I saw bright lights and then nothing and when I woke up a week later I was so confused why I was still alive. But then my Papa was there, holding my hand, crying like a baby." Her words begin to rush out in a ramble; in a stream of consciousness and Brittany finds it hard to follow.

"I thought he didn't want me. I stopped thinking he'd ever find me. I thought he'd moved on with a new family and forgot about me, but he didn't. He thought I didn't want to see him 'cause of my fucking bitch of a Mother keeping him from me. I had nothing and then he showed up by some miracle of God and took me away from that place."

"Why were you in the hospital, Santana?" She repeats. It's bolder, stronger.

Brittany moves her arm closer to Santana's in some form on encouragement. Santana looks terrified and it breaks her heart in two. She needs to know even if it breaks the both of them. Her intense, dark stares captures her own and makes ice chill the blood in her veins.

"Some guys had the wrong idea of me." Her gaze becomes glassy but unwavering, and her words are filled with shame like the words are true. Her eyes are asking Brittany something she doesn't understand. "They wanted to teach me a lesson - and I let them."

Brittany's fists clench nervously. She doesn't like the sound of any of the words that come from Santana, but she knows she needs to be brave, she needs to know in some way, she knows she needs to know this.

"Why - why would you - why would they want to do that?" She asks fearfully. She dreads the answers, and the dread begins to prickle her skin, like shards of glass.

Santana puts her glass down onto the coffee table and leans her head into her hands.

"There were rumours about me." It comes out muffled but monotone. "About me liking girls in that way."

Brittany feels the tears falling down her face and she's too hurt and confused to do anything about them as she bends closer to Santana.

"But why would they want to teach you a lesson about that?"

She looks conflicted; as tears shine in her brown eyes that look so sad and so haunted it has Brittany clutching at her chest. She wants to reach out and touch Santana but she know the girl would flinch and run. She looks caged - like a wild animal desperate to flee.

She needs to know. It's her mantra repeating itself as she watches Santana fall apart in front of her.

Her words choke out and stutter in a cough.

"They thought I was trying to take advantage of a girl when all I was trying to do was get her home from a party."

"Did the girl know what happened?"

Santana watches her intently as tears fall silently from her eyes. Brittany tilts her head and stares back openly, patiently waiting for Santana to continue. That question, still appears so intently in her eyes.

"No." Santana averts her eyes before fiddling with her hands, "She was really out of it but I know she was okay!" Santana adds hastily, "She normally ended up in that state after these parties and she'd pass out in the bushes in the front yard across from my yard, so I'd help her out and get her back home." Her tone becomes more and more thick with grief, and her eyes become more and more wild as she looks anywhere but at Brittany beside her. "All I ever wanted to do was help her." She whispers into her wine glass.

Brittany thinks back to yesterday of Santana telling her where she used to live. The only parties she knows near Santana were Jefferson Hughes' parties every second Friday each month.

"From Jefferson Hughes' parties?" She questions in realisation.

The shadow that crosses Santana's features sends shivers down her own spine.

The dark-haired girl hides behind her hair -which now hangs loosely around her face - and nods slowly.

The unease begins to pool in Brittany's stomach. Those parties were always hard hitting, drug and alcohol-fuelled binges. She rarely remembered anything but having a good time at them. She stopped going to many of the parties mid-way during senior year when the danger of not graduating came perilously close to happening.

Then the most horrific thought of all comes to the front of her thoughts as she sits on this beautiful designer couch.

What if this had happened to her?

"I think it's for the best, you know?" Santana continues carefully. She sounds like she's underwater to Brittany's ears. Her mind races as she tries multitasking between working her thoughts out and listening. "I wouldn't want that kind of thing haunting her for the rest of her life."

"Why?"

Her eyes snap to the back of Santana's head as it hangs lower and lower to her lap. The conversation looks like it's zapping the life out of her and Brittany feels the unease build up further.

"Because she was kissing me." It comes out like a choke and Brittany feels the ache building in her chest. "She would always try and sometimes I'd be a pathetic fuck and let her kiss me." She sounds ashamed and Brittany watches with blurry eyes as Santana bunches her hand into a fist and taps her forehead over and over. "I was just too weak to push her away because I wanted it even when I knew I shouldn't." She speaks so quietly and shamefully as Brittany hears the muffled sounds of tears clouding her raspy voice. "Those guys saw the worst of me and an opportunity to do something about it."

Her eyes turn back to hers and they're filled with so many apologies and regrets. There's so much grief, and torment and Brittany knows Santana is carrying things she knows she never will. But the dread is still there, and builds with each unwavering gaze they send each other. The tears that fall from Santana's eyes look like shards of regret that hit Brittany square in the chest. It hits her like a bullet.

"Oh, God." It's a mantra that pours from her mouth over and over. Her glass shatters on the coffee table and she sees nothing but violent lights of nausea and realisation. It was her. She feels her food beginning to crawl it's way from her stomach. She feels her mind screaming, her skin crawling at the realisation. She dreamt about things so similar to this she's sure of it. She used to think it was a metaphor for someone coming to carry her home, to be with and love her like she could learn to love them. And somebody did, and they paid for it.

"It was me, wasn't it? It was me!" She shrieks, her voice sounding so very foreign to her own ears.

Santana's eyes widen with tears and desperation, and Brittany can't see anything but the spinning of the room in fantastic and sickening technicolour.

"None of this was ever your fault!" Santana rushes out desperately, trying to calm Brittany down with a shake of her shoulders, "You kissed me and I was too weak to push you away because it felt like you really liked me, just like I wished you would. You were so drunk and didn't know any better! I did, I totally did know better! I regret it, I promise I do." It comes out in sobs and rolls out into the air and thickens the tension that's only beginning to increase. It hits Brittany over and over like a wave of bullets between the walls.

"It was my fault." She repeats numbly.

"No. It. wasn't." Santana replies slowly and clearly. Her hands run along Brittany's thighs, desperate for her to come down from the ceiling she feels like she's perched on. Santana's tears leave tracks from the heavy mascara on her eyes and stains her dress as they fall down the caramel skin like rivulets.

"They kept you safe." Santana reassures, as if she knows those awful people who would put her in the hospital would be kind enough to take Brittany home. She doesn't want to believe it but she does, "You were popular, everybody liked you and because of that they looked out for you. I wasn't, and those guys thought I was living up to the rumours." Santana takes her pale hands that feel far too cold and rubs them tenderly, "That is _not_ your fault."

Her mind stalls, and she can only blink.

"I'm glad it was me, because if anyone would have done that to you I would have killed them. I would have hunted them down, and killed them for doing what the did to me."

"And what did they do to you?" She rushes out in a mutter of words and splutters. She feels like marbles have been stuffed into her mouth and choking her.

Santana whimpers like a wounded animal and presses her herself in the corner of the couch leaving Brittany spinning.

"This is why I was scared to tell you." She bites out quietly, "I didn't want to bring up things that should stay where they are. This is already too fucked up."

Her mouth feels dry and her body too hot. She takes the bottle of lemonade and throws her head back taking in long gulps from the bottle. It spills down her dress and wets her skin but she doesn't care – she doesn't stop until the entire bottle is empty.

She tries to process everything. The rumours that were spread in school about people let fortunate than her, the lies, the cruelty people suffered. Some lives are over before they even began.

She doesn't remember anything on the news about this, and it makes her feel even more sick. She hesitates, struggling to push the words out past the barbed wire clawing at her throat like grief and despair.

"How did – How did this not get out?"

"It was out there, but you can throw things under a rug and hide them if you know the right people," Santana's voice tries to soothe the sobs begging to escape from Brittany but the feeling of how wrong that sounds only makes her feel so much worse, "My publicist made sure it would never see the light of day when I decided to try this acting thing, too. There'll be no teachers to give little sound bites on how Santana Lopez is a big success, and was such a bright student, and fake shit that they don't even give two shits about. No embarrassing high school photos they can find from the school." Her tone darkens, and becomes so bitter and gravelly it startles Brittany, "And there'll sure as hell be no one coming forward about how creepy, lesbo, Santana Lopez - the creep who'd take advantage of drunk girls that she needed straight, privileged, teenage boys to white knight and teach her a lesson."

Brittany wants to vomit. She thinks there's nothing worse.

"You've been a erased." It's horrified, and echoes around the large room.

"No." Santana corrects breathy and hopeful, "I've been freed to do what I want."

Brittany looks around, the pristine house with no family mementos or any real home comforts. Santana isn't free at all. She hides away in this house, shies away from people, lashes out to protect herself, only to come out at night in the shadows of clubs that accept people like her. She hides who she really is and can't even drive herself to work everyday. This doesn't look life freedom to Brittany. This looks like a sheltered life. She lets other people live her life for her, and it doesn't make her sad. It makes Brittany feel angry.

"How is this freedom?" She is furious. At herself, at the situation, and the fact that she just cannot turn off her feelings because it only hurts her more, "You're miserable here! You fake a relationship with your best friend so people don't question the real you! And I've gone and made it worse." She takes the bracelet that she loves more than anything, "And then you give me this." She whispers sadly as tears fall onto her dress.

Santana is eerily calm. She sits back and folds her hands into her lap.

"I thought that was a good way of showing you how I felt." Santana replies calmly.

Santana's demeanour has changed from serious and tortured like a cornered animal scared to be prodded, and grown into someone strong, and brave and Brittany feels her chest aching in so many confusing ways, as the girl moves closer towards her, wrapping a tentative hand around her naked shoulders.

She sighs deeply, and her tone becomes more serious, as she watches Brittany with her eyes ablaze with conviction, "I've made a life for myself no matter how good or bad it may look on the outside. It could be so much worse. Those _bastards_…" She trails off painfully, her features clouding once again, "What they did - it was always going to happen whether I helped you or not." Her tone is bitter and even but Brittany can hear the quiver in her voice trying so desperately to break free. "Those guys were the ones who pushed me into lockers, who helped spread those rumours from a closest-case who hated themselves as much as I did." Her hands trace dizzying circles on Brittany's back as her lips pull tightly into a smile Brittany has never seen before, "You're special Brittany, and I never want you to lose that. Even when you were so drunk you couldn't stand and I had to carry you home, you'd say things to me so similar to the things you say now, and I can't stop myself from believing them when you look at me the way you do now."

Brittany chokes on the sob welling up in her throat.

"I'm not a good person, I know that." Santana continues quietly, "I've done things I'm not proud of to get where I am today, but to just see you and - " Her voice begins to falter, and thicken with tears once more, "You make me want to be a better person, Britt." There's silence between the two as Santana hesitates and moves her lips closer to Brittany's ear to tell a secret between the two of them in an empty house, "I like myself when I'm around you."

Brittany's hears something a lot like "_Te amo."_ whispered so quietly it sounds like pin dropping to the ground.

Her mind swirls. She needs to leave, find space, stop this guilt clawing up and making her feel worse than she already does. She knows nothing can be normal ever again. She's only heard too much to know she has to grow up and face the music that has only been growing louder with each passing day. Living the way she has lived has excelled her to greater heights than most but people she cares about far too hurt to continue like this.

Brittany just shakes her head and wipes the lone tear that's fallen from her eye. She doesn't trust her voice just yet as her jaw clenches and her fist shakes.

"I think I want to leave." It sounds gravelly, like she's just swallowed a fist of stones and they've stuck in her throat.

"Are you…"

"Yes." She interrupts shortly.

"Okay." Santana sighs out dejectedly.

Brittany kind of dislikes that the most open Santana has ever been causes her the biggest ache in her chest yet.

She gathers her things, straightens out her dress and walks out of the living room without looking back at the girl behind her who shuffles along silently. She picks up her shirt and throws it on and looks around the large foyer looking for the keys to Mulsanne.

"I am going to request another driver." Santana says quietly as Brittany looks around for her keys she managed to drop somewhere in the hallway. "I know it's only three days but I want to give you space. I'll be going to Texas for a week and you'll be doing your thing." Her eyes begin to water and she looks away.

"I can't find my keys." Brittany states vacantly.

Santana hurries around looking for the keys in the hallway, finding them under her bag. She opens the door and lets Brittany out first, before following and closing the door behind her.

"I understand if you never want to see me again." She continues in that same dejected tone that hits Brittany right in the chest. She wills herself to do something but she can't – she's stuck, walking down the driveway of Santana's house. "I just want you to be happy because nobody deserves happiness more than you, Brittany."

Santana hands the keys back to Brittany as they stand by the driver's side of Mulsanne.

"I wanted to show you something but I guess that's not happening now." Santana continues mirthlessly before fixing her sad gaze onto the taller girl, "I'm so sorry I messed everything up."

Her head spins and her mouth feels like cotton wool has coated her tongue. She tries to desperately will herself to speak but nothing comes out.

Brittany can only shake her head sadly and get into Mulsanne.

When she pulls away and looks back into the rear-view, she watches Santana walk away with her head down and her shoulders hunched that reminds Brittany of a girl many years before.

* * *

><p>"You okay?" Tina asks catching the sight of Brittany leaning against the door.<p>

She pushes away from the door and walks through the apartment to her room to sleep "She wasn't in the Mafia." It sounds a lot less distraught than she feels. She's exhausted.

"Santana?" Tina furrows her brow in confusion.

"She lived in Lima Heights Adjacent. She used to take me home from Jefferson Hughes' parties."

Tina gets that smooshy romantic look on her face that Brittany thinks makes her look like she's about to hyperventilate and vomit at the same time. It's gross but she's too tired to care.

She stares back forlornly, and Tina watches her carefully.

"You didn't, like, vom on her and that scarred her emotionally or anything?"

Brittany kicks off her shoes and runs an aggravated hand over her face.

"How would I know?" She huffs.

She's never felt so disappointed with her own self before, and she kind of dislikes it.

"Didn't you stop going to those douchebag parties Senior year?" Tina asks pointedly, looking over her shoulder with bright eyes.

Brittany nods absently, not sure what Tina is getting at.

"And Santana disappeared at the beginning of Senior year..." She trails off, motioning with her hand as she looks off behind Brittany, her brow creased in concentration.

"What?"

"I don't know, maybe you've always had this," She pauses for a beat, clicking her fingers together, trying to find the words, "T_hing_ with each other. Maybe you stopped going to those parties because you knew someone wasn't going to get you home in one piece."

She stopped going because she didn't want to fail High School and Tina was one of the people who nagged at her to actually try and graduate. She shakes her head and glowers at Tina. And while she knows she's been thinking about things like that, she still thinks _that_ is pushing it just a bit too far.

"That's stupid."

Tina hums out lowly, before grabbing the remote to channel hop absently.

"Maybe." She replies easily, "But the fact you've managed to find and start up whatever you've started up with each other is stupid too."

She rises on her knees, and turns fully to watch Brittany's movements (she's biting her nails anxiously waiting for her moment to storm off), "Maybe this is exactly where you're supposed to be."

Brittany thinks standing in their apartment after storming out on the person she loves without giving them any sign they're okay is not where she's supposed to be at all. She needs space and time. She needs her own home, her family. Everything feels better when you've had a hug from your Mom, which makes her feel sad that Santana probably never had her Mom to give her hugs when she needed them most. Even if they're a few thousand miles away, it doesn't stop her from wanting it. She runs a hand over her tired face and sighs tiredly. She knows she could have handled this so much better than she should have.

There's a question in the back of her mind getting larger and larger as Tina watches her from her view on the couch.

"What does _'te amo'_ mean?" She asks meekly.

Tina clasps her hands together and her eyes widen comically before she lets out a dreamy sigh and bounces on the couch.

"Did Santana say that to you?" Brittany nods slowly and Tina's excitement stalls. "It means – It means '_I love you'_ Britt."

She feels the tears pricking at her eyes once again.

"Did you tell her?" Brittany says nothing. "What did you say, Brittany?" Brittany only sighs and walks to her room. Tina calls her name (and throws a pillow – rude) but she walks into her room, turning the lock, and slumps down onto her bed.

She's never felt as dumb as she does now.

It takes thirty minutes for her phone to ring on her night-stand while she sits in the dark petting Lord Tubbington in her lap. She knows who it is and doesn't bother to read the ID when she presses the phone to her ear.

"_It's over, kid." _

She knows it is. When Tubbs get sleepy and moves to his own bed she slumps down onto her pillows with a sigh.

She sends a text when she gets into bed fully clothed; wide-awake and hurting.

_I'm sorry. _

She doesn't feel sad or upset - she's just never wanted to go home more than she does now.

And when her phone buzzes back almost immediately with reassurance she falls asleep breathing easier.

_I understand. I am too.  
><em>

Come the morning everything will clear and she can think clearly. She knows everything will fall into place once daylight comes. She prays for it.

* * *

><p><em>We will still get to where we need to be. The companion piece to go along with this story (Which also got wiped. Woe) will delve more into Santana's backstory. I don't feel the whole thing can and should be answered in this story.<em>

_Thanks again for reading. Your reviews are always much appreciated._


	19. Water Through My Hands

_Outside of no longer having a laptop and travelling for work, I've kind of been holding onto this for longer than I should of. I apologize, but Glee kind of sucked the creativity out of my soul and I found it difficult to get out of it. In true RIB fashion - I am deflecting the blame onto them. I just can't bring myself to continue watching a show that treats my gender like shit.  
><em>

_However, this story will be finished. Thank you for continuing to read. If anyone wishes to be my beta let me know, my dyslexia and is kicking my butt at the moment.  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>She sees stars and darkness above her, and feels something a lot like numbness seeping through her back, and filtering into her rapid heart. She feels nothing but the swirling dizziness around her, as she lays still in a place oddly familiar. <em>

_The nausea begins to overcome her. _

_There's a silhouette blocking the beauty of the night sky, peering over carefully, intrusively. She'd tell the figure to move if she didn't feel her stomach flip._

_Her eyes flutter shut when a pair of small hands takes her wrists, and begin to pull at them lightly. With a spark, her body comes to life as she leans against the silhouette, their jacket soothing the shakes, but not the nausea. _

_They prevent her from swaying and push a bottle into her hand before breathing out a breathy sigh that smells like grape and red vines. _

"_I'm taking you home, you're safe with me." They say in a voice that sounds so maddeningly familiar. _

_Her rambles are endless; her words are slurred. The body pressed against hers is comforting in the warmth and stickiness that feels a lot like a hot summer night. _

_She wants to talk and she has someone patiently listening, as they make their way down the lowly lit sidewalk._

"_I bought you a bracelet today." The low voice says quietly in a moment where she stops her own rambles to concentrate on focusing her eyes and keeping the nausea at bay._

"_You did?" She replies. She struggles to piece the words together. The dizziness makes her see beautiful colours dance before her eyes, her body doesn't feel her own as she tries to focus on the body next to her. _

"_It's of those charm ones." They continue, as they squeeze their hands into her side to keep her from stumbling, "You used to wear one full of charms but you don't anymore, so I thought I'd get you one to start fresh one day." _

_She stops suddenly. She sways on her feet and moves her head from side-to-side. _

_They sigh and move into the amber hues of the streetlight. The dark hair from the smaller person shines brightly, glowing a chocolate colour she wants to eat, as she tries so hard to focus her eyes. _

_She raises an expectant hand as she sways merrily. _

"_Are you gunna give me it?" _

_It sounds like a chuckle, deep and throaty, and it sends a cool shiver down her spine. _

"_Maybe at our senior graduation." _

"_That's so mean." She pouts._

_The other body moves closer and puts their small hands on her biceps. A smell so pleasant fills her senses, beyond smoke that hangs on her barely-there dress. It smells a lot like oranges and lilies._

_There's no chuckle this time and she feels something more than sadness filling the night air. _

"_Yeah well, we can't always get what we want can we?" _

_Full of swirling emotions that makes her dizziness find a focus, she trails her hands down the smooth skin of the girl in front of her. Her dizziness has taken a sobering quality when she sees the smaller girl's dark eyes watching her carefully. _

_Her hands take a mind of their own as she runs them down the smooth face in front of her - pulling the glasses they hide behind away from their face. It feels so familiar, so right, and she can't stop the content filling her insides, pushing the nausea away. _

_It's a moment she wants to remember forever. _

"_You are so beautiful." She whispers into the darkness, her head moving ever so slowly towards the girl with caramel skin. _

_There's a feeling of déjà vu rumbling in her chest. Why, she just can't put her finger on. _

_If she could focus harder she is sure she'd see the sadness reflected thickly in the raspy voice on their face. _

"_When you can tell me that sober, maybe that's when I'll believe you." _

_The smaller girl replaces her glasses and wraps her arms around her own taller frame once more. _

_The tanned hand resting tenderly on her hip, she covers with her own. There's a promise deep inside her to tell her exactly that. _

* * *

><p>She feels groggy when she awakes the next day. Her alarm is shrill, and her stomach lurches uncomfortably as she rolls her from her bed, collecting her uniform. Her sleep was restless and her dreams were filled with recurring themes much like the dreams she used to have back home. The ones she used to have time and time again, that felt so real, that plagued her in ways she felt they had meanings she was supposed to gauge. And as the hot water from the shower hits her, rejuvenating her tired soul - the more she begins to realise those damned dreams were anything but dreams. It had all happened before – and it makes her feel soul feel heavy.<p>

Morning comes, and she doesn't feel much different at all.

* * *

><p>She dresses in silence, hearing Tina mulling around the living area unusually early for reasons Brittany has no care about.<p>

Tina - drinking a sickly coloured shake at the kitchen island - smothers her with words when she enters the room. And when she sees Tina with the same look she had before, Brittany can't stop the whole story of last night tumbling from her mouth.

It tumbles from her mouth like water through her hands, and she runs out of energy quicker than she expected. She needs a boost she knows she won't find here with Tina and her gross health shake.

They sit on the couch, while Tina looks at Brittany like she's the dumbest person in the world. It makes her hurt and grouchy all at once.

"And you just - walked out?"

Brittany nods mutely. Tina's mouth opens wide like a fish.

"That has to be the worst decision ever right there."

Tina fixes her with a pointed gaze - which Brittany only catches from the corner of her eye. Brittany doesn't even have the energy to be mad at her. She's pretty certain Tina is right and that makes her stomach ache a little.

"Sorry but it is." Tina continues with her hands raised.

"I couldn't think properly." Her voice sounds quiet as she sits with her hands resting of her cheeks, "It was like the air had cut off my head or something, and it was about to fall off. I couldn't breathe and I had this echo in my head that made my ears ring. Kinda like the feeling you get just before you get that gas that makes you get Britney Spears fantasies at the dentist. And I couldn't think. My eyes were funny and blurry."

Tina looks disturbed and Brittany finds it slightly unnerving.

"Have you like, reassured her or anything?" Tina asks, deflating Brittany from her ramble.

She shrugs sullenly and begins to bite her fingernails.

"I sent a text."

"Saying?"

"'I'm sorry.'"

Brittany realises she did the wrong thing when Tina flips out and jumps up from the couch to pace in front of the coffee table, pointing a badly-applied black, acrylic fingernail her way.

"Oh my God you suck, Brittany! You suck!" Tina shrieks and Brittany winces, "Way to make it sound like a break up text!"

Brittany starts to suck on her hair thinking about the look of Santana's face when she drove away. She looked sad and reminded her of her Mother's face when she took her first cat, Charity to the vet. She never did see the Russian Blue cat that acted more like a dog again after that morning she left for school. When she asked where Charity had gone, her Father only told her she's gone to a better place and she wasn't hurting any longer.

Brittany thinks maybe she's Santana's cat, and maybe Santana thinks she's never going to come back from the vet, gone forever without a goodbye. The thought of that makes Brittany feel sick and turn a shade of grey.

It also makes her think in the deep, dark, depths of her mind that she may just be little dramatic.

"Look, maybe you do need to have some space and realise this was weirdly fated from the beginning, but damn girl, you need to like, work on your game or something."

And she kind of hates she agrees with Tina a little bit. She's not feeling so flaw-free after all.

"I have game."

* * *

><p>She drops Tina off at a rehearsal studio not far from the garage. Brittany was nice enough to stop on the way to get coffee (obviously) and and a gross herbal tea for Tina (which smells so much like vomit, Brittany almost heaves on her way back to Mulsanne). Tina left Brittany and Mulsanne with a promise to help her <em>'find her love game'<em> which she thinks is kind of inhumane. She'll always have more swagger than Tina could ever dream to have.

She finds Carl waiting for her when she pulls into the garage. With his days old stubble, pressed navy suit and his clipboard, he urges her to follow him into his office.

"You're on runt duty." Carl says evenly after he watches her slump into the chair. "Which means, any lazy ass actor on that set wants something off it, it's up to you meet their request. And because union coffee tastes like crap - it'll most likely be trips to Starbucks."

He throws the file he's suddenly holding onto the desk, urging Brittany to take it.

She scans over the pages, before her eyes catch one particular detail.

_Location: 20__th__ Century Fox Studios. _

She feels butterflies awaken in her stomach.

"You're gunna be stationed on the FOX lot for the next three days and taking the important crew to the airport Saturday. And no more Mulsanne," He continues wagging his finger like he's caught Brittany in the cookie jar, "You're takin' the Mercedes Viano for this job. You're gunna have to pick up some bit part players on the way to set."

Brittany slouches lower into the chair and pouts sullenly. She loves Mulsanne more than most people she knew, and taking her away only makes everything more upsetting.

Carl flashes her an apologetic look, before coming to lean against his desk.

"Don't worry I know you did nothin' wrong. These things happen, ya know?" He grabs her shoulder, squeezing tightly, "The girl did you a favour really."

"She did?"

He looks at her like she should understand what he's implying – and she does. If only she still didn't feel like her brain was going to have a thunderstorm caused by the clouds that grow inside.

She stands on autopilot.

"Can I get some time off?" She blurts out as Carl rounds his desk to open the door.

"Sure, kid." He replies passively. "When?"

Brittany hadn't really thought that far ahead.

"Soon?"

Carl flashes a half smile and slaps her shoulder as she nears the door.

"When you decide just let me know."

Sometimes, her boss really is just awesome.

But then she gets into the Mercedes Viano; all shiny and oversized, smelling like vanilla air freshener and leather polish, she mourns the loss of her beautiful Mulsanne even more than she did before.

* * *

><p>She spends most of the morning making numerous coffee runs for grouchy important people, and picking up dry cleaning for the costume department (where her Mercedes is parked outside of and perfect to catch the rays of the LA sunshine). It's not as boring as she expected it to be, at least. She enjoys listening to the voices of the PA's filter through the radio perched carefully on the dashboard of the van become more, and more shrill with each request.<p>

Although, not when they get snippy with her. That's not cool.

The urge to track down Santana rumbles under her skin; makes her feel twitchy and restless, but she resists - opting to stay put in the van that's too much of a stranger to really enjoy.

The door is slid ajar as she lies taking in the afternoon sun beating down on her face, basking in the radio silence.

She's not sure how long she's been lying there - totally not thinking about what Santana is doing - when Brittany hears the distinct sound of someone, most likely a man, clearing their throat.

She opens her eyes to find the upside-down face of Tyler peering over her curiously.

"It's amazing how things can change in a day isn't it?" He says rhetorically. Brittany squints up at him as he scratches his growing beard, and peers down closer.

Tyler flashes her a wide smile and Brittany rises from her place.

"I think your replacement, Wilbur, either hates me or wants to tap my perfect ass. It was hard to tell this morning - I was distracted by his shiny fat head."

Tyler laughs at his quip and picks up a bright pink beach cruiser bicycle (with a basket and bell to boot) from the ground, and wheels it closer to the van. He looks sheepish as Brittany stares at the effeminate bike. He's gay but not _that_ gay, Brittany thinks.

"I borrowed it from props." Tyler explains sheepishly, "I'm on my way to the basketball courts to watch closeted menly men try and play sports." Brittany can't help but quirk her eyebrows, "Wanna come?"

Brittany takes the radio, clips it to her pants, and hops on the back of the cycle with a nod at Tyler's grinning face.

* * *

><p>"Shouldn't you be asking Santana about this?"<p>

They sit on a bench in the basketball courts as Brittany manages to feel grilled without any talking.

She watches the basketball game absently (which is so terribly poor, Brittany feels like running up and stealing the ball away) as she picks at her nails, while Tyler takes a sip from his bottle of something cool and too fancy for Brittany to try before.

"Possibly, but getting anything out of 'Tana is like pulling teeth a lot of the time."

Brittany winces at the thought.

"So." He continues full of mirth, "What did Santana do this time?"

"Nothing." She replies back defensively, her eyes narrowed to slits.

Tyler can only smirk in return.

She sighs, deep and heavy and folds her arms around her knees as she pushes them against her chest.

"I've hurt her." She mutters.

Tyler nods lightly, rubbing his chin, before shrugging his shoulders and nudging Brittany on the arm.

"No more than you're hurting yourself I'm sure."

Brittany finds her shoes very interesting for a moment.

"She started telling me about her life last night." She starts quietly, and Tyler looks at her with empathetic eyes, "We were getting somewhere, she was opening up." She can't seem to find her voice as trembles. "I couldn't breathe and I walked out."

She takes a calming breath to stop her speech being laboured with tears, "I used to have these dreams," She continues as the breeze picks up the wisps of hair fallen from her ponytail, "They felt so real." Her voice begins to tremor again. She shakes her head and clears her throat, "It's taken all this time to realise all those things happened."

She watches Tyler out of the corner of her eyes, and sees nothing but a kind half-smile and his eyes shining in empathy. She feels freer somehow to continue.

"I know, I know her now and it's the best thing ever, but I can't stop my brain from thinking how much time we could have had together if I had just looked at what was right in front of me."

A fight breaks out on the basketball court, when a man in pink polo shirt staggers to the floor clutching his nose.

Tyler doesn't do anything for a while, and Brittany looks on nervously from her place on the bench, cringing at the violence. He heaves a deep breath and squeezes Brittany's thigh in something that feels like a comforting gesture.

"Drama queens, the lot of us!" Tyler says before rising from the bench to break the fight up.

She knows what he's implying - and in the dark depths of her mind, she maybe agrees - but that boulder pressing directly onto her chest only gets heavier.

Her radio barks out orders just as Tyler (who practically looks hulk-like in comparison to the punier and shorter men) grabs a man slapping another across the face by the scruff of his Navy stripe polo shirt. In a way Brittany's relieved – it means her mind can focus on other things.

* * *

><p>It's late evening when she's delivering the tenth round of coffees for the day (or the thirtieth, she's kind of lost count), when she sees a flash of dark hair illuminated by the floodlights she knows belongs to Santana. Her stomach clenches in nervousness and her heartbeat rattles like it wants to beat out of her chest. She has the urge to move, track down the girl down and kiss her like she means it, but she doesn't. Her mind is stuck and her limbs are frozen, like a sexy iceberg. All she can do is stare at the place she spotted that flash until the radio comes to life once again, and forces her move back to the van.<p>

She gets home just after midnight and collapses into bed soon after. When she sleeps, she dreams of home, and Charity.

* * *

><p>The next day is much of the same. She feels more fatigued, and the circles under her eyes are darker than before. She's exhausted and it's not even 9am. Her mind is numb and her muscles are weary.<p>

She finds Tyler waiting for her in the parking lot in returning from her third visit off-set. With a smile on his face and a coffee in his hand - she'd never been so happy to drink a warm latte in her life.

"This is the worst job ever." She sulks as she throws her arm to shield her eyes from the morning sun bleeding into the open door of the van.

She's tired, hungry and she can't find more than two minutes to herself before she's bothered by another request from the shrieking radio.

Tyler sits on the step with his head tipped back in a scoff.

"Honey, try being a film director." Tyler replies as he sips on the coffee she just made a journey for, "Those bitches barely sleep during production. Or a PA." Tyler adds with a point of his finger as he begins to chew nosily on the brownie Brittany also brought for him, "Those poor things are overworked and underpaid. I would know - I used to be one."

Brittany knows one thing she isn't is underpaid. Her salary is more than your typical Hollywood regular job and she's grateful for that. Well, Tina is anyway.

"At least you get considerably large bonuses and a nicer-than-your-average car, or in your current case – a multi purpose vehicle."

There are a few beats of silence and Brittany's thankful for that, but then she finds herself filling it with words she had only thought.

"I want to go home. Maybe everything will be clearer then."

Tyler looks away thoughtfully before he turns to take his laptop out of his satchel and places it onto his lap urging Brittany to sit next to him. It makes that noise that sounds intimidating and pretentious and Brittany finds herself rolling her eyes.

"Then lets get you a flight to Ohio, honey."

When her payment is processed and her phone notifies her of a new e-mail, that bolder in her chest gets just a little lighter.

* * *

><p>"We should do lunch together today." Tyler says as he chews loudly on a piece of laffy taffy.<p>

Tyler hasn't left her side since he helped her book flights back to Ohio. He went with her to the café to get more coffee orders, picked up dry cleaning, he even came to the pharmacy to pick up Plan B for an actress Brittany is legally obligated not to mention.

Brittany wonders if Santana sent him to keep an eye on her. She doesn't say anything, but having him around all the time is a nice distraction.

"And stop feeling sorry for yourself, pretty. You'll get wrinkles."

Brittany thinks that lunch would be a great idea if her busiest time was not when that stupid bell that reminded her of school went off at exactly 12noon, leaving her with nothing but the rush of orders and requests she needs to do in that time frame. Then there are the annoying assistants of the actors who tag along with their shrill voices, and their phones permanently attached to their ears.

"That's when the rush starts." Brittany says sullenly, balancing gracefully as she pirouettes along the white markings of the basketball court.

Tyler hums lowly and Brittany walks over to where he sits on the bench.

"Then you'll just have to come back here when you have the chance."

Brittany thinks he looks constipated, but she realised that sometimes that look means people have plans, sometimes big, sometimes small. Just like Quinn Fabray in junior year, but those big plans sucked. In a way, Brittany she doesn't mind Tyler's constipated face. Really, she's kind of grateful he's frying up a plan.

Although the guilt that she can't even think up of a way to just talk to Santana makes her feel a little awful.

Her radio comes to life and it's time to work once more. This time, Tyler doesn't come.

* * *

><p>She takes home a young girl no older than sixteen. Her golden hair and hazel eyes look tumultuous as she does nothing but cry, and ruin her white shirt with the heavy mascara that runs down her cheeks with each sob that racks her body.<p>

Brittany wonders where this girl's parents are, why this beautiful girl that looks older than her years is so sad, and why nobody seems to care.

She asks if the girl is okay, only for the girl to wrap her arms so tightly around her self-Brittany wonders how the girl can still breathe.

Brittany watches her carefully in the rear-view mirror, noticing the reddening marks beginning to appear on her neck. She feels the unease pool in her stomach and her hands grip the steering wheel tightly.

Brittany finds out the girl's name is Jenn when she stops outside her apartment block and hands over a business card.

"If you ever need a driver. Or just someone to talk to." She trails off with a tip of her hat.

The way the girl looks at her like she's the nicest person in the world makes the bolder in her chest feel that little bit lighter once more.

She'll never speak about it, but her dreams of becoming a cultural icon seem a lot less awesome when she sees what it can take away from you. She doesn't have the full story, but even she can see when someone has been taken advantage of, and spat out like they're nothing.

* * *

><p>She arrives back to the set with the last lunchtime request with plenty of time to spare. One was Tyler's extremely large sushi order, coffee and milkshakes - which made Brittany totally suspicious. The other was a bag full of red cups, and an overpriced phallic shaped birthday cake for someone called Reg. Her finger may have accidentally touched the green and black vanilla frosting as she was walking to the wardrobe department with the item, but it was worth it as it melted in her mouth.<p>

She gets a ride from friendly brunette PA on a golf cart back to the basketball courts to see Tyler no longer alone. As she walks closer, sees spots the dark hair of Santana, all coiffed and pinned and drop dead gorgeous, looking pouty and deep in serious discussion about something that looks, well, serious.

_Breathe. Just Breathe. _

When Brittany eventually remembers to breathe, she notices Alyson with them talking carefully and quietly. As she moves closer - with her heartbeat thundering in her chest - she hears the shrill nose of Alyson's cell phone that cuts the three-way conversation short.

Brittany shuffles closer to them, but stays secluded behind the chain-link fence and the truck that is parked close to it. She can hear everything now, eavesdropping becoming something of a _thing_ of hers. Yet another thing she's flawless at. Although it makes her feel like she's partaking in something sordid which is not so cool, because it makes her feel like she needs to take a shower.

She watches from her spot, as Santana surveys the area with an unreadable face. Her face the perfect mask it usually is, and her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses.

"She's, um, okay, right?" Santana stammers out and it makes Brittany's belly twist into knots as she watches Santana's face twist in something that looks like nerves.

Brittany watches the back of Tyler's head as it tilts and her breath catches in her throat.

"Why don't you speak to her?" Tyler asks quietly. It sounds almost defensive from where Brittany stands, as she watches Santana's face carefully from her hiding place. She only looks frustrated.

There are words of vacations and destinations Brittany has no care about when she watches Alyson tap Santana on the shoulder urging her to leave. When Tyler bids them farewell and something about legs breaking, only Alyson says anything back.

She watches the pair leave with a rapid heart and jelly for legs. They get on the golf cart that waits not far from where she stands. There's a loud clatter of scaffolding behind Brittany which startles not only startles her, but catches the attention of Santana perched on the back of the golf cart. When Santana looks back even with her unreadable shade covered eyes - Brittany only freezes.

Santana gives her a smile that looks small and wan, and a wave without the expectation of one back. When the golf cart leaves – Santana never looks back.

Brittany shakes her head for acting so pathetic, and walks back into the basketball courts.

"I thought craft services were to die for?" Brittany asks dubiously, as she places the large brown paper bag onto the bench.

Tyler smiles broadly and removes his sunglasses.

"It's nice to change it up once in a while, is it not?"

Brittany only shrugs as she takes the offered box of food and slumps on the bench next to him.

"I'm going to Cabo for my vacation." Tyler says suddenly.

Brittany watches him as he daintily sips on his banana milkshake, waiting for her reaction. She shrugs.

"Guess the frying pan broke." She mutters before she can stop herself.

His blue eyes widen before his breaks out into a grin, and it makes Brittany feel strange.

"A frying pan never just breaks, Brittany." He chastises with his tongue poking at his cheek, "You just buy a new one, and get more fatty products to clog your arteries with. Like, bacon."

It's the best Brittany's felt all day.

* * *

><p>The last day comes, and it's eerily quiet on the set. There's few requests, even fewer people milling around. There were spurts of cheers and familiar crewmembers leaving the lot with tired smiles on their faces.<p>

Brittany watches it go by passively, humming softly to songs on the radio and eager to catch the sun once again. She thought the last day would be frantic, full of shouts and rushing of scenes to get things done, but it's not. It's peaceful almost.

She hasn't seen Santana all day either.

She's left alone with her thoughts, but her mind is quiet. It's late afternoon now, and Brittany is on her phone, playing some game with fruits and swords, trying to beat her high score when she's interrupted by an elderly woman with purple dyed hair. Brittany thinks she looks on the cusp of retirement and slightly scary by the way her hair stands tall like her fingers found the socket far too many times. But she smiles warm and asks if she wishes to be part of their mini-wrap celebration in the wardrobe department. She accepts the invitation but not the champagne offered as she walks into the small office the six women on staff shared.

They're interested in her, so she happily talks about her life and who she is. It's not until she mentions she's a dancer does the elderly woman, Brittany now knows as Barbara, perks up delightedly in recognition.

"I've just realised who you are!" She says with enthusiasm Brittany finds infectious, "You're Santana's little friend!"

Brittany frowns at 'little' because she's taller than Santana and it's kind of insulting.

The other members in the room roll their eyes at the women before Alice, a younger girl who looks similar to Brittany's age - perks up in response.

"Barb seems to think Santana isn't a heinous bitch." She says far too snottily for Brittany's liking.

Brittany's frown deepens and she finds herself going to her angry place. Bitch.

She's about to explain to this Alice character that she is dead to her when she's interrupted,

"Please don't try to condescend, darlin'. I've been around long enough to know when a bark is worse than it's bite." Barbara replies with a pointed gaze to the actual _little_ girl next to Brittany.

Alice shrinks visibly, and goes to finish the last of her champagne. Brittany feels slightly smug in response.

She finishes her orange juice and thanks Barbara for the invite. She happily gives the woman a business card when she asks for one (yey!) and leaves the department feeling almost normal.

She see a flash of colour dashing around the corner of the building, smelling so much of baby powder and costume make-up, and the tinge of that sent she loves so much. She shudders at the feeling it leaves her with and continues her small walk to the van.

She re-opens the sliding doors before jumping back into the passenger seat. When she does eventually get in, she turns the key in the ignition and moves to recline back in her seat.

When she reclines back, her eyes move to something on the windscreen of the car. She frowns at the unknown item. She decides to get out of the van and slowly walks around the car to inspect what exactly it is.

Brittany becomes anxious fleetingly, thinking it may be some kind of weapon of mass destruction, but when she sees the bright red ribbon atop a fluorescent yellow box, she calms. For some reason, it doesn't seem like a colour scheme a bomber would go for. Nor does a small note, folded delicately in the middle, seem all that explosion-y either.

She eyes the box for a short moment, before moving the item away from the screen-wiper it is snuggled under. It feels heavy in her hands, and her body almost twitches in nervous excitement.

She pulls the note attached to the top of the box and unfolds it.

_Brittany,_

_Thanks for everything. You were the greatest chauffeur anyone could ever ask for. Consider this your wrap gift. Good luck with your future, you're going to be awesome. _

_S_

She opens the yellow box to find another box inside. It's black, and leather and has words on it that Brittany has never heard of. She takes the box out of the casing, and places it on the bonnet of the van. Slowly, she pulls back the top.

There's a watch inside, and it looks super fancy. Its gold and platinum metal design has Brittany slightly nervous to take it out of the box. The diamond-encrusted sundial sparkles in the sun, and it has Brittany mesmerised. It's beautiful and she knows just by how it glimmers, it's expensive. She feels the threat of tears beginning to surface, over something as plain as a watch. A fancy watch, but still, a big gesture that Brittany's never experienced before.

She goes back to the note, reading it over and over. Her hand traces the almost childlike-printed writing, once again amazed at how amazing Santana Lopez can be.

The radio comes to life on the dashboard she left it one, and startles her out of her dreamy reverie. A shrieking voice barks out a question,

"_Has anyone seen Lopez? She's gone AWOL!"_

Brittany looks on in the direction she saw that flash and she knows. Santana was here, and that makes her feel warmer inside. She takes the note and places in her breast pocket with closed eyes. She stand there, breathing. In and out. Her eyes closed and her mind fills with thoughts that make her feel like she could stop the world.

"_False Alarm, we found her! The bat is back in her cave, repeat, the bat is back in her cave! She was in the make-up trailer!"_

She can't help the small smile trying to break free on her face, and for a short while she lets it.

* * *

><p>She returns home from the studio tired eyes and a glowing reference just before ten PM.<p>

The first thing she does (after stuffing her mouth with an onion bhaji, and a shish kebab Tina had set out for her on the kitchen counter) is show Tina the watch.

"Holy shit, Brittany!" Tina exclaims before prodding at the watch with a clean napkin. "Do you know what this is?"

"What?"

"Expensive is what it is!"

"It's just a wrap gift." Brittany shrugs not so nonchalantly.

"Bitch, please!" Tina cries incredulously, "I've gotten nothing higher than a bouquet of flowers; this is a gift from somebody who cares. And maybe a wrap gift."

Brittany thinks it's because Tina is only a backing singer that her wrap gifts have never been so awesome and as beautiful as hers.

She bites her nails and stares fearfully at the watch in it's casing on the coffee table.

Tina whistles lowly and slaps a hand on her shoulder.

"Just go, Britt."

So when Tina throws her a packet of spearmint gum - she does.

* * *

><p>Brittany mourns the fact she didn't think to change out of her uniform as she rings the doorbell to Santana's house. She pulls at the collar of her shirt, as it suddenly feels tight against her neck.<p>

A light turns on behind the door, and Brittany readies herself like she's about to be rushed in a game of football.

The door opens, and music lingers on from the living room. She knows she's heard the song before.

_If I breathe in the future, breathe out the past, yeah…_

She openly gawks at Santana, as she stands at the door with her head-titled curiously while Brittany shuffles on the spot looking anything but calm. Her face is free of make-up and her glasses that Brittany finds adorable hang low on the bridge of her nose, in a way that makes her wonder if she had been reading. Her dark hair is loose and wavy which makes Brittany run her run her hands through it. Her subtly surprised gaze makes her look younger than her years but the dark circles formed under her eyes, that show the tell tale sign of exhaustion, make her gaze look haunted. Broken. It takes Brittany back to High School seeing something now, she only wishes she could have seen earlier.

_Savour this moment as long as it lasts..._

She doesn't know what to say.

"Have a safe, um, trip." Brittany blurts out.

"Okay…" Santana trails of with wide eyes, sparking slight mirth in her slack expression.

Brittany begins to feels flushed.

"And, erm, well, thank you for the watch. It's probably the nicest thing I've ever been given."

Brittany wishes she hadn't left it at home.

"Oh, you're welcome. Just a parting gift, ya know?" Santana replies almost too casually, that it has Brittany narrowing her eyes, "Kind of courtesy in this town to give a gift for doing a good job. Which you did, by the way."

"Did what?" Brittany replies with her brow creased in confusion.

"A good job." Santana explains, "Ya know, being a chauffeur. I was just gunna send it to the garage but I had it delivered to set, and you were still working for the production so I thought 'what the hell'."

Brittany nods her head slowly.

"Right. Thank you."

The music that lingers stops, and a new and unfamiliar song begins to play.

She stands awkwardly on the porch, moving her weight from one foot to the other. She feels like maybe she should leave now, having nothing to say thanks to her mind going blank. She's about to turn around and leave in resignation when Santana opens the door wider.

"Do you wanna come in?" Santana asks carefully, and steps aside of the door. Her face is a mask of impassiveness and Brittany wonders if hers looks the same.

Brittany tries to smile but it feels like a grimace. She nods once, before stepping into the doorway and letting Santana guide her through the house that feels more and more familiar, but just as foreign with each step she takes.

The music is louder as they move closer to the living area. It makes Brittany feel comfortable as the unfamiliar beats filter through the house.

There's a lone candle sitting and a neat pile of scripts on the coffee table. A welcoming smell of vanilla enters her senses and she takes a settling breath. Her eyes move to the grey suitcase off to the side, looking packed and ready to be taken. It makes her chest hurt remembering that she's not going to be taking to Santana to the airport tomorrow, but instead, greasy men who let themselves go due to the stress of working twenty hour days on film sets.

Santana sits pressed into the corner of the couch, urging Brittany to sit instead of standing awkwardly waiting for something she's not entirely sure of.

She sits in a flounce, urging herself not to stare openly.

"I don't know what to say."

Santana's smile is small but encouraging.

"You don't have to say anything."

Brittany thinks that's not true, that she should say a lot of things and maybe even apologize but there's something blocking her airways when it comes to gasping out an apology. She wonders if it would ever help or if it would only manage to make her feel better about herself.

She runs a shaky hand through her hair. She doesn't feel so infallible anymore.

"I find it hard to do and say the right thing around you."

"So do I, Britt." She reassures and it makes Brittany feel heavier, "I said all the wrong things and didn't get to say the right ones. Sometimes it's just how things happen."

"I shouldn't have walked out."

Santana shrugs sheepishly and removes her glasses as begins to clean them on her shirt.

Brittany gapes openly at the other girl's movements, only stopping when Santana catches her with a slight frown.

There's a question she wants to ask, fearful but it's gnawing at her conscience. Brittany thinks, if she can ask this she can ask anything without falling apart. She needs to ask for her own sake.

"Those guys." She starts hesitating, "D-did they - I mean, did they, you know…?"

Santana cuts off her rambling with a short, "No."

Brittany breathes a slight sigh of relief but there's something about the vacant way Santana recounts it vaguely has her heart drumming like a drum N Bass song.

"They kicked the shit outta me, tied me up on the outskirts of town, did some torture shit, and then left me for dead. But they didn't…you know."

Her heart plummets. That doesn't really make her feel any better. She racks her brain trying to piece together questions that she wants to ask but she grow confuses and can't make sense of her thoughts to say them all.

"And we didn't share any classes together?" It comes out like a whimpering bang and Brittany scuffs her shoe on the fluffy rug on her floor.

"History." Santana replies simply.

There's a feeling embarrassing terror Brittany has that makes her wonder if Santana ever had the pleasure of seeing her stick her tongue down that guy's throat for gum. But when she looks back to Santana who's face is nothing but encouraging and kind she knows it doesn't really matter.

"Okay."

She begins to trace patterns on the material of her pants finding so many things to say but not finding the ways to say them. She feels her face growing hot with something that feels a lot like frustration as she digs her fingernails into her thighs and stares at the coffee table in front of her.

"Can I get you a drink or anything?" Santana inquires lightly, pulling Brittany out of her moping. She doesn't wait for a response and rises to make a move to the kitchen with a rattling breath. "I'm going to get you a drink."

She leaves Brittany on the couch, watching her leave the room helplessly. There's something about the tenseness of her shoulders that has Brittany standing on automatic, following silently some paces behind her.

She stands by the entry way, watching Santana as she moves to the fridge with ragged breaths. Her head is lowered as she runs a shaky hand through her dark hair.

Brittany watches as Santana press her head against the large door of the fridge, breathing so deeply. It makes her heart beat rise and the knot in her belly tighten.

It makes her realise all the questions she wish she had the eloquence to ask don't really matter, when there's this girl who loves her so completely without saying the words to her can be so sweet enough to let her into her life so freely. Brittany knows she doesn't really deserve it, on the outside it may even look like she's using the smaller girl for fame when really, all she's is doing is finally getting to see the most fantastic person there can be.

Her legs move on auto-pilot, gliding across the tiled floor with the ease and grace of her dance-like way and stands behind Santana as she still rests her head against the fridge door. She tentatively moves her hand and places it on the small shoulder in front of her, eliciting a gasp out of her.

She wraps her other hand around Santana's waist, finding delight in the way her breath hitches into gasps as Brittany pulls her tight against her front.

Brittany doesn't want anything but her.

It's then, when Brittany decides to turn her around in her arm, and push the beautiful girl with caramel skin good enough to lick, against the newly closed fridge door and kiss her; passionate and desperate and full of things she should really say aloud.

Santana pulls away, her breath heavy and her chest heaving.

"Come with me." She whispers breathlessly. And it sends waves of desire down Brittany's spine.

Santana takes her cool hand and pulls her quietly and gently through the house. Her mind feels foggy, and her body feels anything but her own, as she stumbles up the stairs looking at nothing but the white shirt of Santana's back.

"Can we just…" Brittany trails off. She's not exactly sure what she wants except for the press of Santana's body against her own so tenderly.

"Okay." Santana whispers in reply, "Okay."

They stand in the middle of Santana's large bedroom, their heavy breath filling the room with sound, and electricity filling the atmosphere. Brittany feels like she's standing atop a cliff-top, and below it are clouds of desire, and waves of lust and love crashing against the rock. It makes her feel heavy and like never before – unsure.

Santana slides her hands underneath her jacket, her eyes never leaving her own as she pushes the jacket away from her squared shoulders, flinching with the tender movements.

Her dark eyes dance in the low light with something that looks a lot like excitement and lust. As the jacket hits the floor, the dark eyes come to catch her own blue ones; half-lidded and sexy and fluttering eyelashes. It has her mind reeling and her arms unsure what to do.

Santana pulls her closer, the heat rising between and the atmosphere growing thicker. Brittany can hear the sound of music, rising from downstairs. Santana's nimble fingers move to trace lazy patterns on the skin of her neck. It's slow and meticulous and has Brittany almost begging. Her breath begins to break in gasps and Santana's eyes watch on curiously as she begins to make work of unbuttoning the white shirt.

The shirt, like the jacket before drops to the floor, leaving Brittany in her wife beater and slacks.

Santana slowly falls to her knees and looks up to Brittany though her dark lashes as she pulls on the laces of her boots and pulls them off along with her socks.

Brittany can honestly say, she's never been so turned on by somebody undressing her as heat begins to pool low and deep in her belly and only rises as Santana moves her hands, ever so slowly up her legs. They come to rest on the belt of her pants.

She unbuckles them with her eyes never leaving her own. Brittany watches as Santana pushes the pants down her legs, with her hands trailing the expanse of skin now on show, as she sends it sends shockwaves through her body. There's a look of unabashed admiration softening her caramel features and it makes Brittany feel special.

Santana's hand move across the expanse of her stomach, slowly moving further and further down to slid underneath her panties. Brittany feels Santana slide across her already embarrassingly aroused nub causing her to gasp and squirm and feel so tightly wound. Her eyes squeeze shut in delight.

"I never thought you'd ever get this wet for me." It's full of enough wonder to break Brittany's heart in two and sew it back together with each feathery touch.

Those talented fingers that seem so strong and stable against her quivering body, remove her blue polka-dot panties. She feels them fall to the floor and steps out of them, as Santana – and her perfectly placed hands – move along with her.

Brittany throws her head back and groans. There's this moment were she has visions of spinning Santana around in her arms and pushing her onto the bed to take her like all the ways she may, or may not have dreamed about. Yet all she can do is whimper and keen into the light touches against her most sensitive parts.

"God, you are so hot." She whimpers out as Santana begins to languidly kiss her neck.

Her movement's halt, and Santana leans back to look into Brittany's unfocused gaze with that curious look once more.

There's something about the way Santana presses into her, with her hips canted and her thigh resting so perfectly in-between her legs that has Brittany savouring the moment. With breaths mingling together, as Santana reaches up to place teasing kisses onto her lips while she links their hands together, drawing them tight to her chest, she knows this is something she'll never forget. Even if this never happens again, she'll remember the way Santana felt as they danced across the room to music that's barely there, to reach the lavish bed that seems too perfect to lie on.

And when she's pushed down on to the bed as Santana stares at her with dark, predatory eyes that never leave her own, something inside her ignites. There's a softness with those eyes that makes Brittany feel alive. They give her hope to right all her wrongs. There's a promise deep inside herself, and when it rises to the surface, bubbling in something that feels a lot like joy - she almost feels celestial.

* * *

><p><em>I, erm, tried. I did some editing last minute in a fit of insecurity. Sorry.<br>_

_Thanks for holding out guys and thanks for the messages wondering if I'm still alive, and kicking my small but perfectly formed derrière into gear. _


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